Untamed Spirit
by Ally N. S
Summary: Injured and left for dead, Erik escapes the mob only to be discovered by a Russian gypsy woman. Set after the "famous disaster." Erik/OC.
1. Discovered

I pulled my shawl a little tighter around my shoulders and sped up my pace. The past few days, the breeze had had a distinct chill to it, winter promising its swift arrival. I could feel the cold as it caressed my face and I paused, taking in the sensation with a deep calming breath. Regardless of the chill, it felt good to take a moment and simply be. The iciness lingered on my skin and in my hair. It was a gentle reminder of life's continuation and for me, it was a welcome one when it meant that soon my feet would be on the soil of my homeland once more.

Large stone buildings towered above me, their intricate designs remarkable but foreign. My gaze followed the dreary grey building closest to me upward, mesmerized by its gothic splendor. There, staring down from their hideous perches sat a dozen stone monsters, fangs and claws seeming to reach down towards me. Gargoyles as they were called here in this country were common enough but still continued to scare me. Remembering a tale I had been told as a young girl about these horrific creatures did not put my mind at ease.

An old man had once explained that these half-man half-beasts had once roamed France and terrorized all its inhabitants. When the beasts set their sights on Rouen, the Saint Romanus fought back and managed to subdue the monsters. However, when he tried to burn the creatures, their heads and necks would not burn. The Saint then mounted the monsters' heads on spikes and placed them on the walls of a church to ward off evil spirits.

I felt pity for the beasts and wondered if such a story was concocted out of any small half-truths or if it was entirely myth. For the sake of the creatures, I hoped if was myth, no animal or man regardless of its nature deserved such a fate. The church used them in all their unsightly splendor, as a warning against trusting the devil.

I shivered involuntarily but whether it was from the cold stone eyes of the gargoyles or the cold in the air, I couldn't say. I resumed my walking but stopped dead at the sight of a man slumped against the church. There was something about the way he was leaning that gave me pause and then for a moment I thought I glimpsed something odd about his face. I reprimanded myself for letting my overactive imagination run away with me and approached him. Looking around and making a mental note of my surroundings in case the encounter proved to be a dangerous one, I knelt beside the unresponsive man and placed my hand on his shoulder.

My heart thudded against my chest as he moved ever so slightly, turning as if to look at me. I gasped at the sight of the man's face and nearly fell back, thinking that perhaps I had simply found the man long since dead and already partially decayed. I was comforted by the idea that it had only been in my mind that he moved on his own. Then his sunken in yellow eyes looked up at me and I covered the sob that threatened to escape my throat. _By God! The man __**is**__ alive! That is his face!_ Mangled beyond belief, the flesh was parchment thin and stretched across the right side of his misshapen skull. Bone was visible in some places and made the man gruesomely resemble a skeleton. I couldn't help but look away, horrified by the man before me and even more horrified by my reaction to him. The sight of him was enough to turn my stomach.

My retreating eyes flickered back up to the gargoyles who looked down at me mockingly. "Not so appalling now, are we," they taunted. I glared back up at them, before squaring my shoulders and turning back to the wretched man.

His eyes were glazed over but I wasn't sure whether he was hurt by my reaction or just too far gone to focus on me.

"Sir? Can you hear me?"

His gaze flickered towards me and looked me over once before losing focus again. My hand trembled as I grabbed his shoulder and turned him away from the wall.

"My God!" A large red stain spread across his shoulder and down his chest, partially dried on his shirt. I looked back up to his eyes and saw them flutter shut. Forgetting his face entirely, I wrapped his arm around my shoulders and stood, hoping my strength was enough to support him.

He was dead weight and I could feel my body straining to hold even just his shoulders up. Draped against my back I could feel how low his body temperature truly was and knew in my heart that had I not found this man, he would have been dead before the next sunrise. Even now, I wasn't certain if he could be saved but I intended to do my best.

Ignoring the complaints my body made against such strenuous activity, I continued back the way I had been heading. Each step I took was heavy and slow but I would not give up, knowing that help was not far off. I could not bring myself to care about how much time passed as I half-carried half-dragged him along, but as the sight of the Seine came into view I breathed a sigh of relief. Along the riverbank I could see carts and tents and as I neared, dark heads rushing around amongst them.

As if he could feel my nearness, my father looked up from his work and directly at me. At the sight of me struggling towards him, he dropped his tools and ran for me, calling out to me to stop and wait for him to help me. Ignoring his warning as I always had done, I continued towards him. He was still grumbling about me hurting myself as he reached me and my injured mystery man.

"What in God's name, Alyona?" His dark eyes looked over me with intense care, his concern written plainly in their depths for me to see amidst the soft reprimand.

"Papa, I found this poor man on my way back. I think he has been shot…"

Finally having decided that I was fine, if not a bit mentally disturbed for having brought home a stranger, my father took the man's weight of me and called out for his brother. I watched as my uncle appeared and made his way briskly to us, asking nothing but simply supporting the other half of the unconscious man's weight back to the camp.

Saying nothing aloud, the two brothers hurried their load past the curious glances and words from the others, directly into our family's tent. Placing him on one of the cots, my father began to remove the layers of clothing but my palm on the back of his hand stopped him. He looked up at me sternly but I was past being intimidated by my own father.

I felt like I needed to warn him. "Papa…his face…there is something wrong with his face…"

Turning back to his task, I watched as my father pulled back the hood of the pitch black cloak and uncovered the horror that was this man's face. I was stunned as a soft gasp escaped from him to match my own. Known for his harsh demeanor and tough words, I would not have expected any reaction from my father when he was with his brother but both men seemed stunned by what they saw.

I watched as my father's fingers moved with expert care over the deformity, inspecting it with care but also an aloofness I couldn't quite understand.

"Sweetie, this injury has been with him a long time. I can do nothing for him on that account but his bullet wound I might be able to help."

I nodded to him and he shooed me out of the tent so he could begin his work. I silently prayed for God to give my father strength to deal with the responsibility I had placed in his lap. Then, I did something I had never done before; I prayed for a complete stranger.


	2. Burning Eyes

The fire crackled gently at my feet as I stared deeply into the flames. The vibrant colors pirouetted in furious circles; reds, oranges and yellows entwining in their captivating dance. I tried to focus on the warmth on my face in an attempt to stop the worry. The effort went unrewarded.

Everyone was asleep except for my father, my uncle and I, but I hadn't actually seen either of them since they had banished me from the tent. In bringing the man to my father, I had been certain his life would be spared. However, as time ticked by I was beginning to wonder if my father was truly the invincible man I had always seen him as. In my gut, I knew that if the masked man died, so would some of the adoration I still harbored for my father.

I leapt to my feet at the sound of fabric swishing against fabric. Turning, I found myself looking at a somewhat frazzled version of my father. When he saw me, a dark emotion flickered behind his eyes before he sighed and it disappeared.  
"Alyona, you should be asleep."

"Is he alright, Papa?"

"It was difficult, but I found the bullet. It is still possible for an infection to develop over the next few days but if he survives those he should live."

I paused at the mention of time. "But Papa! Are we not leaving for home tomorrow?"

My father nodded and I felt a lump form in my throat. I glanced back to the tent and felt tears threaten my eyes. Knowing that it would be wrong of me to ask my father to take on this man as more than a temporary responsibility, I blinked them back.

His palm came up to cradle my jaw, turning my face back to him. Looking into my eyes, I felt how much he loved me. He didn't need to say it, I knew and would always know. We had a connection that few others could even begin to understand.  
"Okay Sweetie. If he makes it through the night, we may take him with us. I just worry about you Alya. Your heart is in the right place but you trust too easily. You know nothing about this man!"  
"I do not care who he is. No man should have to die alone and in pain. I love you Papa. Thank you." Papa kissed my forehead and turned to go back to the tent. My hand on his shoulder stopped his progress.

"I'll take first watch."

For a moment he looked like he was going to protest but then nodded his head, walking back towards his own bed, leaving me to tend to the injured man. My feet moved slowly towards the tent, not certain what condition I would find the man in and even less sure what I would feel seeing him again.

Shaking with nervousness, I slowly peeled back the curtain blocking him from view. His form was stretched out on the cot in the corner, covered by a thick blanket up to his chin. Steadily, his chest rose and fell with each breath. This gave me a flash of hope as I lowered myself to a cushion beside him. Folding my legs underneath me, I sat and began cleaning up the tools my father had left out. A kettle of hot water sat within reaching distance and so I used some of its contents to clean off the scalpel and other unidentifiable tools before placing them back in his medical bag.

With that finished, I couldn't help but turn my attention back to the man before me. It was clear that he was more comfortable now that the bullet was no longer lodged in his chest but there was still quite a bit of blood and sweat coating his skin. Taking a bowl and filling it with the remaining luke-warm water from the kettle, I found a clean cloth and began wiping the grime from his body. I tried to ignore the feel of his hard muscles beneath my palm but found the task difficult. Imagining the horror of his face and the strength of his body painted a fairly detailed image of what type of man this was. I shivered involuntarily at the strength he must have when conscious.

At the feel of my touch, the man stirred, groaning from the pain that I imagined still tore through his body.  
"Christine…" he breathed, a desperation in his voice that made my heart constrict. "S'il vous plait, Christine! Ne me laisses pas seul!" His hand flexed, the fingers seeming to be searching for something. I hesitated but the tone of his voice eliminated my fear and I reached forward, grabbing his hand in mine.

His fingers wrapped around my own in a strong embrace.

"Take it easy." I murmured, "I'm watching over you. You'll be alright."

Easing his hand from mine, I moved about the room, filling the kettle with water and leaving the tent to place it over the fire outside. From my father's bag, I pulled out lavender, poppy and St John's wort and began to mash them, making a balm for his wound. He was quiet as I moved around the tent and I wondered absently if maybe the sounds were soothing him. Once I had finished with the ointment, I moved over beside him, laying my palm on his firm chest and gently removing the dressing my father had placed over his open wound. It looked terrible, the red fleshy part of the muscle clear for anyone to see. It seemed cruel to leave such a wound open but closing it would only expedite an infection.

The man hissed as I touched the tender area, but it was a necessary cruelty and so I simply hushed him before applying the salve.

His eyes flew open, fire crackling in their depths. I jumped at the sight but stayed where I was, knowing he was too weak to do any real harm. After a few moments of blindly looking around, he squeezed them shut again. "Christine, Tu me manques tellement que ça fait mal. Je ne sais pas cesser de vous aimer. Je devrai apprendre," he groaned.

I didn't need to understand French to understand the agony this man was in. My heart constricted, knowing that there was little I could do to help his pain. It would take some time before the balm would give him relief. Looking around me, I found the bottle of brandy my father must have used while he removed the bullet. Lifting the bottle to the man's lips, I urged him to drink a good portion of what was left. As he quieted a little, I felt a sigh of relief move through my body.

Again, I took his hand in mine, gently stroking the back with my thumb. Having little else I could do, I began to sing:

"Dark eyes, burning eyes  
Passionate and splendid eyes  
How I love you, How I fear you  
Verily, I saw you at a sinister hour

Dark eyes, flaming eyes  
They implore me into faraway lands  
Where love reigns, where peace reigns  
Where there is no suffering, where war is forbidden

Dark eyes, burning eyes  
Passionate and splendid eyes  
I love you so, I fear you so  
Verily, I saw you at a sinister hour"

The song itself made my heart constrict, the melody haunting and the words painful. Chancing a glance at the injured man, I saw his breathing had calmed and his distorted face was noticeably more relaxed. I closed my eyes over the sensation and continued.

"If I hadn't met you, I wouldn't be suffering so  
I would have lived my life smiling  
You have ruined me, dark eyes  
You have taken my happiness away forever

Dark eyes, burning eyes  
Passionate and splendid eyes  
I love you so, I fear you so  
Verily, I saw you at a sinister hour"

By the time the song was finished, I knew he was asleep. Leaving behind all pain, physical and emotional, to be dealt with at a later time. I rearranged myself beside his cot, covering myself with a heavy burgundy blanket and snuggling in to watch over his peaceful slumber.


	3. An Understanding

I awoke to the soft clatter of morning chores. I stretched, accidentally allowing a foot to slip out from beneath my blanket. The stark coldness of the air made me whimper as I tugged the limb back beneath the soft material.

Snuggling down into it, I could smell the faint scent of spice and immediately remembered I was in my father's main tent. The memory of the injured man washed over me like a bucket of ice-cold water. I cursed softly as I sat up, my eyes struggling to adjust to the still dim light of the room.

A heavy hand on my shoulder instantly soothed me. Without looking I sighed and leaned into the touch, realizing how stupid my worry had been. Of course, my father had come to relieve me of my duty.

It is alright _maya dochka_. All is well." I looked over my shoulder and graced the man with a smile. His dark brown eyes lit up as he grinned back. I leaned back and kissed him on his cheek before turning to wrap my arms securely around his shoulder.

His deep laughter rumbled within his chest, as he returned the embrace.

Releasing him, I turned to look back at our Frenchman. My father had clearly re-dressed the wound and given the man a clean linen shirt as well. He seemed to still be asleep and I wondered if that was a good sign. Knowing my mind, my father responded, "He has lost a lot of blood _milaya maya. _His body needs rest to replenish itself. He will live. We must be careful with him. He should not be traveling but I see no other option. I would like you to remain with him in the cart."

Nodding my agreement, I turned to check on him for myself but my father reached out to hold my cheek in his hand.

"You have become a beautiful and intelligent woman with a good heart Alya. I am proud to call you daughter."

I felt my eyes begin to water as I fought them back, wanting to remain strong before the man I admired with all my heart. "Clever father, clever daughter; clever mother, clever son." He smiled and hugged me before continuing to pack the room. Looking around, I noticed most of our belongings had already been stored for the journey.  
"I'm almost ready to go. You better gather your things and get cleaned up. Once you are done, come back to help me load our cargo," he said with a nod to the man on the cot.

I smiled but did as he bid.

I returned to the sight of my father and uncle taking down the tent, the only remnant of what had been our happy home for months was the cot and the man asleep upon it. My uncle waved a greeting and I ran to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing each cheek.

"Good morning!"

"Good morning _lapushka_. Ready to go home?"

I nodded energetically.

My father motioned to the cart and instructed me to lay out blankets for them to set the Frenchman on. Both men lifted him onto the cart with seemingly no effort. The man stirred a little, but didn't wake. I settled him in as best I could as my family made the final preparations.

Soon we were off for the long road to Mother Russia. I settled in for a while, pulling out a book I had brought with me. I smiled remembered having purchased it from a trendy shop in Odessa from a man who seemed incapable of doing anything but smiling at me. He was the first non-gypsy I had known to ignore my station entirely and treated me like just another pretty and well-educated girl and not the gypsy I was. It had been this man that had suggested Pushkin's poetry instead of prose.

Alexander Pushkin was famous for what he did for Russian Literature, but I could have cared less about his achievements. For me, an author's work had to speak for itself. Pushkin's did. I loved his poetry and found myself reading the book for what must have been the hundredth time. My uncle liked to mock me for reading the same collection time and time again but secretly I knew he was proud of me for showing interest in something as refined as poetry.

Having grown up a gypsy, I knew my family worried that I had not received enough of an education but what they failed to notice was that when we traveled, my thirst for knowledge was met head on by those we met along the way. There were always people ready to share their beliefs or ideas, if not with a gyspy, then with each other. When that was the case, a young gypsy girl wasn't worth noticing and I could learn through eavesdropping.

I had come to find that France was a goldmine for knowledge. Being one of the countries to lead the world in culture and civilization, resources for learning were plentiful and many came in countless translations. Summers seemed endless and carefree beside the Seine with a new book to captivate me. In the past few years, I had grown quite comfortable with reading in French but to my disappointment, speaking and understanding were still foreign to my Russian ears and tongue.

My family had chosen France, more specifically Paris, initially because the business was good but over time I believe even my stubborn traditional father had become enchanted with the city. Tourists roamed the streets, loving the chance to do anything exotic. Many gypsy women within our troupe told fortunes and others performed, while the men sold their skills. My family came from a long line of horse-breeders and was well known for the quality of our animals. I smiled as I remembered how my father used to allow me to accompany him in the negotiations for some of the beasts. Now, it was considered improper and I had to remain with the women, though admittedly I often went off by myself to explore. Looking back behind us sadly, I subtly waved a goodbye to my beloved Paris before returning to the beautiful poetry before me.

I had no idea how much time had passed when my concentration was broken by the man stirring beside me. Finding a bit of cloth as a bookmark, I marked my page before turning to check on him and his wound. He body was covered in a light layer of sweat, which made my stomach drop to my feet in dread.

"Papa? He seems to be sweating…"

My father glanced over his shoulder, a look of concern only evident in the furrow of his brow. Detailing a few instructions, he had me check the man's pulse and vitals. Reporting back my findings relieved the tension in Papa's shoulders. At the sight, I too relaxed.

"That's normal. Use a clean cloth and some of the water from one of the canteens to clean him off and make him more comfortable," he instructed.

I did as my father bid. Having grown accustomed to the shape and feel of the man's body the previous night, my hands moved expertly over his torso, cleaning the grime from him with ease. I was so focused on my task that it barely registered when his eyes flitted open.

Having finally noticed, I watched him carefully, wanting to assess his health by how conscious he seemed. His glazed eyes looked around with an eerie calmness, as if it made no difference to him where he was or who was with him. With trembling hands, I set aside the damp cloth and laid my hand on his shoulder. His whole body jerked as if I had burned him and he glared into my eyes. The power behind that look made my eyes retreat from his.

"Qui êtes-vous? Où sommes-nous?" I stared at him as the words came tumbling out in a torrent. I knew more French than the other gypsies but even if he had used words I knew, he said them so fast and with so much intensity I wouldn't have noticed.

"J'exige que tu me dit maintenant!" He roared while trying to sit up and face me. His already distorted face twisted with pain as he gasped in a few shallow breaths.

"You fool! Are you trying to kill yourself," I admonished. Helping him to lay back and slow his breathing. I felt my father's eyes on my back, knowing he didn't like the tone of the man's voice.

Ignoring the burning sensation of his regard, I reached for the wet cloth again and began wiping the sweat off the Frenchman's brow. After a few endless moments of him focusing on his racing heart, the man's eyes snapped open, their gold depths turbulent as they watched my every move. I swallowed my nerves and continued my work, ignoring the sheer force of the man's presence as best I could.  
Suddenly, the man's eyes grew wide with something akin to terror and his fingers flew to the deformed half of his face. In a near panic, he felt the crevices of his face then looked at me, his eyes filling with equal amounts of terror and rage. In that moment, I felt his anger crash over me like a wave and knew that if he had been in full health, I would be dead already.

"Petite misérable! Mon masque! Il est ou?"

Frustrated by my lack of understanding, my mind stilled as I thought I recognized a word. "Mask? You wish to know about a mask?" I motioned towards my face, outlining an imaginary mask with my fingers. The man watched me in silence, undoubtedly deciding if I was mad or not. After a moment the anger in his eyes cooled to a cold indifference as he nodded silently.  
"I found you as you are. There was no mask." He only stared at me, his brow lined in confusion. I thought for a moment, pulling words from a dark and long forgotten corner of my memory. "Pas de masque!"

"Tu mens! Laisse-moi seul! Tu es exactement comme les autres! Les méchants qui ne peuvent pas ignorer mon visage! Va au diable! Ne me regarde pas! Ne me touche pas!"

His trembling hand came up to cover his face, as he hissed at me, looking away as if I had offended him. I felt my eyes tear up and too looked away, feeling hurt by his lack of trust or even simple kindness.

Without warning my father stopped the horses, pulling the cart to a sudden stop. Without a word, he stood and took the couple of steps that separated the driver's seat of the cart and us. I looked up at him and saw the powerful look in his eyes. Before I could respond, he had knelt to reach down and grab the man's shirtfront, hauling him up to his eyelevel. The man turned his head to meet my father's eyes, anger evident in the sharp twist of his head. His mouth opened as if to say something but I watched in awe as his jaw snapped shut.  
"I don't care who you are, or where you came from, but you will not speak to my daughter in that tone again! She saved your miserable life _Monsieur_. It would do you good to show some gratitude. If we have to have this discussion again, you will have more than one hole in you to gripe over!"

I was about to remind my father that the man didn't speak Russian but the words died in my throat as they appeared to be in a stand off, both continuing to stare at one another. At long last, my father lowered the poor man back onto his blanket and took back his place in the driver's seat, starting the horses without a single glance back at us.

Mortified by my father's outburst, I kept my eyes to the ground as I straightened the man's blankets and continued to fuss over him, avoiding his eyes at all costs. I leaned over him to smooth down his shirtfront but his strong hand came up to wrap around my wrist halting my movements. I nearly gasped when I felt his other hand against my cheek but stifled it just in time, not wanting my father to hear. Gently his palm cradled my cheek as the other was still tightly barred around my wrist.

I could no longer resist looking into the man's eyes and when I hesitantly raised mine to his, the command I saw within them held me captive better than any physical touch ever could. After a few moments of watching my face, the man spoke.

"Je suis désolé, ma chère. Ce n'est pas ta faute que le monde m'a faite un monstre. Tu es si gentille…"

My pulse was pounding in my chest so loud I was certain he could hear it. If nothing else, I was sure he could feel it hammering in my wrist beneath his fingertips. My eyes retreated to the ground again; uncomfortable with the attention he was giving me.

An awkward laugh escaped my chest as I shook my head softly. "I don't understand a word you're saying, Fransuzka!"

"He better be apologizing," I heard my father grumble from the front of the cart. I laughed again and looked at the man who smirked a little as well, as if he understood our sentiments, regardless of language. It was the first expression that resembled happiness I had ever seen cross the man's face. My heart lifted at the sight.


	4. Bridging the Gap

For weeks I lived, not knowing what my future would hold and I was surprised to admit that that uncertainty did not frighten me. The ache from Christine's refusal still burned within my soul and somewhere in my conscious mind, I knew I was simply waiting until death freed me from the pain. I was long past expecting life to give me any more chances. I kept waiting for the gendarmes to arrive, or for that matter, anyone who would haul me off to my execution, but day after day, none came. I watched the odd people around me with detachment certain that they were just waiting to use me for their benefit.

At first I had been frightened of the gypsies surrounding me, remembering my last experience with their race but these ones seemed normal, if not odd for their apparent lack of interest in me. Initially, I had tried to lash out at any and all of them, disguising my fear with blind hatred. However, my lack of strength made my attempts less than futile and logic forced me to tame my actions. Indifference was easy enough to communicate without expending too much energy.

Besides, the only one who truly paid any attention to my welfare one way or the other was the young gypsy woman. She tended to my wound, gave me food and tried to talk to me. The language barrier was a problem but I couldn't be bothered to care. These people were expendable and although I might feel some gratitude to them for their assistance, no loyalty was required.

Throughout the journey, I found myself sleeping quite a bit but I figured that was only natural after having been shot and having nearly bled to death. At that thought, I found myself looking for the one I suspected was to thank for the miserable life I was yet living.

No other gypsy was in sight, except for her. It seemed wherever I was, so was she; always there, as if her sole purpose was to watch over me and my health. I couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. Unlike the other gypsies, her hair was a bright blonde, the gold tresses glinting in the sun's light. Today the silky strands were hidden beneath a bandana of red cotton tied at the nape of her slender neck, though some tresses had fallen out to frame her face.

Her eyes looked up from their task and across the distance found mine, their aqua blue depths disguising nothing. She smiled upon seeing I was awake, waving her hand elegantly in greeting. I refused to pretend to be friends with these people but a nagging voice in the back of my head wanted me to befriend her at least. My palms itched as I held them tight in my lap, refusing to give in to such a silly desire.

I watched from the cart as she cooed softly to the dark horses. The stallion on the right seemed to lean into her touch, her pale hands moving in a smooth but steady pattern over its black velvety fur. She patted the other horse as she unhooked the both of them from the cart. I craned my body to look around and saw no civilization. _Where had everyone gone then? Were they leaving? Surely, after all this, she wouldn't abandon me? _I told myself that it didn't matter, she could leave me if she liked but I was fooling no one, not even myself.

"Where are you going?" I demanded over the distance

She shrugged her beautiful bare shoulders, the sleeves of her bodice wrapped around her upper arms leaving a good portion of peachy skin to distract my eyes. I shook my head and cursed my lack of self-control. When my wandering thoughts fell under my command once more, I tried again.

"What are you doing?"

She merely smiled and met my gaze, unmoved by my lame attempts at communication. I stared at her intensely, wishing for just a moment she could understand me through my eyes if not through words. Her beautiful blue gaze swept over me once more before leading the horses away.

With all of them gone, the young woman included, I could at last breathe a sigh of relief. It felt odd to be amongst so many people after years of solitude. These people were not afraid of me and that in itself I found infuriating. _How dare they pretend I am no different than them? Could they not see my face?_ True, some of the older women avoided me, but they seemed to not protest my presence.

At least the girl's father treated me with wariness, an emotion I recognized. Or so I had thought until it became clear he was like that with everyone. When I realized that, a dark and malicious anger began to form, fueled by the feeling that I had been mislead by a man that I was growing to respect.

He was an imposing man and one that wasn't afraid to lay down the law if he thought someone was out of line. After the personal reprimand he had given me, I had witnessed him do so with others along the way to wherever it was we were going. Irritatingly, I came to admire the man for his loyalty to his people and his daughter. It was evident he loved her and anyone who crossed her would be a fool. Myself included. When he was around, I found myself on my best behavior. Grating though it may be, it was necessary until my strength returned.

I growled my frustration before leaning back. The hole in my shoulder screamed in protest at having been moved. I clenched my teeth over the pain, hoping I hadn't reopened the wound. Grudgingly I had to admit, the gypsies had done a nice job healing me.

"Fransuzka! Vyi ne doljni bwili dvigatcya!" I opened one eye to see an exasperated looking blonde looking down at me with contempt. I smiled, loving the sight of her boldness when she thought I was powerless.

"What now, my dear? That look on your face tells me you are angry with me."

"Kak vyi mojet bit nastolko spokinimi ob etom? Vyi hotitye umerat ot infektsi?"

I looked up at her, forgetting everything but the words I thought I heard her say. "Did you say something about dying from infection?" I pointed to the wound and made a slitting motion across my throat, feeling like a moron for reducing myself to a mime to speak to the woman.

She threw up her hands in exasperation "Da, infektsi!" She reprimanded as if I were being stupid, before shoving my good shoulder back, forcing my whole body back down. I groaned but allowed her to inspect my wound, watching as she rummaged around for a small tin in the folds of her skirt.

"Are you carrying that around with you?" I asked.

She glared at me, as if she was growing tired of the game and I should simply begin speaking Russian now. I scoffed about the irrationality of women under my breath. She glared daggers back at me and for a moment, I wondered if she had in fact understood my comment.

She opened the tin and began rubbing the balm into the wound. It stung at first but I gritted my teeth over the pain. She watched my face intently, clearly seeing the pain I was trying so poorly to hide.

"Upriami fransuz."

"Fransuz?"

"Da. Fransuzka!" She pointed at me. "Fransuz ili fransuzka"

"Is that a name?"

She was just about to respond when I heard footsteps accompanied by hooves fast approaching.

"Zdravstvujte Fransuz," he greeted me. Apparently it was a name, and mine at that. "Kak dela?" A booming voice said from behind my head. I felt my body stiffen in reaction and the girl looked up at me with concern before turning to her father. The two exchanged some information, the words faster than I could even hear let alone comprehend. "Vyzdoravlivaj skoree," the man directed at me before walking around the cart to secure the horses in their harnesses.

The gypsy woman turned back to me, placing the bandage back in place before wiping her hands on a cloth and screwing the lid back on. "Tebe bol'no?"

She looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. I watched as her palms came up to her shoulder. She clutched it with both hands and made a face of discomfort. She then pointed to my own wound, a slight tilt to her head and hope on her face.

I couldn't resist laughing at her acting and she seemed angry with me for doing so. She got up to leave but I reached out my hand and snagged her wrist.

Her head whipped around as her icy blue eyes met mine in outrage at being handled so. I tugged gently on her wrist, bringing her back down to my side. As she moved, I could see the ice in her gaze melting away.

"No_, ma chère_, the pain is tolerable. Though I do not deserve to be so comfortable."

"Neit? Ne bol'no?"

"Neit. Ne bol'no." I tried. The words felt strange to my French tongue but the grin on the gypsy's face made it worth my effort. Just as I was about to let her go, I felt something on the underside of her arm, just above the wrist. Concerned, I turned it over in my palm. She cringed, trying to tug her arm away but I was too curious to release her.

There, was a somewhat large pink mark, raised up from her otherwise flawless skin. I hissed as I realized that branded into her skin was the word 'tzigane.' I stared at the burn, noticing that the scaring meant it had to be more than a few years old. I suddenly felt enraged at the thought of someone burning her lovely skin with such a derogatory term.

"Who did this to you?" I tried to subdue the anger in my voice, not wanting her to think I was upset with her. "The gendarmes? Civilians?" I moved my thumb over the burn, tracing it absentmindedly as I watched her face. She looked ashamed and her other hand went to her hair, twirling a lock of it around her finger in nervousness.

"Ostav'te menja v pokoe, porzalsta." Her voice was so soft and sad that when she moved away to the other side of the cart, I let her go. I watched sadly as she curled up and stared off into the countryside as her father started the cart and we were off again, leaving me to contemplate what had happened to her and why I felt so upset over it.


	5. Reign of the Phantom

Weeks past and I found my strength returning rapidly. I was now able to move about and even tried to help with a few of the daily chores, though the gypsy girl, whom everyone called Alya, insisted that I keep my injured arm in a sling. I complied, if only to ease her mind.

I was slowly learning more about these people and their language and though I didn't want to admit it, I was beginning to like being with them. Even Alya's father took the time to instruct me in simple tasks, such as securing the cart for the evening or how to unhook the horses.

After much miming with Alya, I learned many things and quite a bit of the language as well. Alya was able to communicate to me that they used the term 'Romani' for what they were more than 'gypsy' and that 'Fransuz' meant 'Frenchman' and when they had no other name to call me by, that is what they had used. It took a little extra time, but I was able to communicate to Alya my real name, though she would still use 'Fransuzka' or 'Erya' as her own pet names for me. I was surprised to admit, I didn't mind.

Not knowing enough vocabulary, I couldn't figure out where we were or specifically where we were headed but I figured the further away from France, the less likely it was that I would be arrested. There was still a small, cynical part of me that took pleasure in reminding me that I was moving farther from Christine as well, but I grew frustrated with feeling sorry for myself and pining after her. She made her choice as I did mine.

We had passed some signs in German but aside from that, there was little to indicate location. The majority of the gypsies had gone into the nearest town for supplies, leaving a few others, Alya and I to look after the carts. Alya was at a nearby creek washing dishes while I was on the hill, collecting kindling for the evening fire.

The sun fell deliciously on my face and I breathed in the crisp air, appreciating this chance I was being given to experience the world without the shadow of my mask darkening its splendor. The Romanis seemed to have gotten used to the sight of my unmasked face and so I had simply put off making a replacement mask. I held the twigs cradled in my good arm and headed back up the hill towards our camp.

Suddenly, I stilled as I thought I heard something. Listening intently, I noticed that the birds had stopped chirping.  
"Alya?" I called out, feeling like something was wrong and needing to hear her voice.

A muffled shout echoed over the distance and my heart turned to ice. Dropping the bundle in my arms, I took off at a run, seeing another three Romanis fall into pace beside me as we made our way back to the stream.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Alya came running towards me. Slowing to a stop, I was surprised when Alya grabbed my good arm and motioned back to where she had come from.

"Alya, are you alright?" My Russian was becoming passable and she nodded, her chest rising and falling rapidly with her labored breathing.

Having determined that she was unharmed, my eyes followed her pointed finger and saw a group of men fast approaching. I looked to the other gypsies with me and they seemed concerned but ready for anything.

"Don't run. There's no point." One of the men called out in German.

"They don't understand you Brandeis!"

"Worth a shot." The man shrugged. "I don't particularly want a fight."

"The girl is pretty though. To bad she's a Gyp."

Hearing the man's words made my pulse spike, as a familiar rage slowly worked its way through my veins. It didn't matter if I truly liked the Romanis or not, but they were mine! I would not have these men trespassing on my territory.

I pushed Alya back, so that she was half hidden behind my shoulder. Annoyingly, she stepped around so that she stood side-by-side with me. I looked to her, about to tell her to stay back so I could protect her, but the words couldn't make it past my tongue as I saw her slide her skirt up her thigh and pull a blade from her boot. Seeing the grip she had on the knife calmed my nerves a bit, like it or not, she knew what she was doing.

As the men were about to reach us, one stopped dead in his tracks, looking at me with horror on his face. Noticing the odd behavior of their comrade, the others stopped to check on him.

"My god! It's a demon!" His hand shook as he extended a finger and pointed to my face. Half in a daze, I lifted my hand to my cheek and felt the distorted flesh underneath my fingertips. A sickening feeling turned my stomach, as I realized what had upset the man so.

"Don't be a fool, Gregor. Clearly the gypsies are simply keeping a freak as a pet!"

_A freak? How could I have forgotten for even a second…?_ I felt as if the world had fallen out from beneath my feet. For a few blessed days I had lived as a normal man amongst the human race. I closed my eyes over the insult, feeling it carve a hole out of my soul.

A hesitant touch on my wrist stopped the downward spiral of my thoughts. Turning to my right I saw Alya's bright blue eyes rise to meet my own. Confusion, fear and anger played across her face as she looked up at me, uncertain what the men were saying but knowing that I needed support. I searched her eyes, looking for any hidden revulsion she might still harbor for my monstrosity of a face. Seeing nothing to indicate any such emotion, I squared my shoulders and turned back to the staring German men.

"Are you certain of what I am? Perhaps your friend is not too far off in calling me 'demon'!"

The men stared, taken aback by my response.  
"You are not German," one man stated after having composed himself, though there was a hitch in his voice that betrayed his doubt.

"And if I was? Would you have called me demon? Freak?"

They shifted uncomfortably under my intense gaze. "Listen, we are simply here to collect the gypsies. You are clearly not one of them. Step aside and we will leave you be," the one they called Brandeis bargained.

"What do you want them for?"

"We have camps for their kind. They would be sent there."

"Labor camps you mean?" I guessed in a near growl, realizing that the life of a gypsy was not what it had been when I was a child among them.

The man shrugged. "They aren't worth your concern. Just leave and we will not even mention you to our superiors." I looked to Alya and the others, seeing their questioning faces looking at mine in complete trust. No one had ever trusted me before and certainly not after seeing my true face. They didn't deserve such treatment.

"Is that so? Alright. You have made your proposition. Now, allow me to make mine. Leave and I might refrain from killing you."

One of the others snickered but his friend elbowed him in the gut, cutting him off in mid-laugh. Glaring at the man, he said, "You are but one man! You think you can stop us?"

Looking at Brandeis, I waved my hand casually, "Your friend mistakes me for a mere man. Are you prepared to make the same fatal error?"

"Maybe we should go. Just tell Direktor that they left…" Gregor suggested in a hushed voice, expecting that I couldn't hear him. In his defense, I probably shouldn't have been able to hear him.

"Wise man. You should listen to him…for all your sakes." For added effect, I threw my voice into the forest behind them, saying things like, "Run," "I will kill you," "A bloody and agonizing death awaits you," and "You will burn in hell!"

Gregor and another who had not spoken, ran off at the sound of my voice behind them, nearly screeching in terror.

"You are outnumbered now, even if you doubt what I am." I commented, feeling confident that they would now leave.

One moment I was staring at the men and the next I was staring down the barrel of a gun. In the back of my mind, a voice commented on the familiarity of that sight but I ignored it, finding no such irony at that moment.

I shoved Alya behind me, perhaps more harshly then I meant to, but in that second I was only concerned with her safety. A bruise was by far better than a bullet hole.

"Easy," Brandeis warned his companion.

"If we shoot him, we can just get on with the job."

"Do you honestly believe these people are entirely defenseless?" I motioned towards the others with an exaggerated wave of my hand, finally allowing it to fall loosely at my side, hoping my nonchalance passed as strength.

Moments later, something cold and hard was pressed into my palm. I wrapped my fingers securely around it and had to hold back the smile that threatened to escape my lips. It was the hilt of a blade, and not just any blade; Alya's blade. If I had had more time, I would have found a way to mime my approval to her. She was a brilliant woman and a spitfire at that!

Being cautious not to alert the men, I used my fingers to hide the knife in the sleeve of my shirt.

Brandeis rounded on his friend, "You want that on your conscience? Besides, he's not gypsy. What if someone comes looking for him?"

"No one will look for him! Look at his face. No one could love that man," he spat.

The world turned blood red in an instant. The words echoing through the labyrinth of my mind until reality and fantasy were one in the same. Hatred burned through my veins, eating away any other emotion that could have possibly stopped the oncoming disaster. Gone was Erik, the man. The Phantom again reigned supreme.


	6. Forgiveness

Fear. My heart pounded in my chest with it. One minute Erik was relaxed, confident nearing arrogant; and the next rigid, fury radiating from his very skin. I felt secure in his conviction, protected even, but as soon as his body language changed so did my feelings towards him.

Yuri, Lenka and Aleksandr stood behind me, shifting their weight uncomfortably as they felt it too. Danger. This man was dangerous; I could sense it in air shivering around him.

I suddenly regretted giving Erik the knife, wondering if I had just given him the means to kill these men. I didn't know what they had said to cause such a change in him, but seeing the way he had lifted his fingers to his distorted face gave me some idea.

Frozen on the spot, I gaped as Erik strode towards the man holding the gun. Slowly, his arms rose from his sides, giving the man a clear shot at his chest.  
Erik roared at the man, making my skin prickle at the sound of his voice. My heart felt cold, not knowing his words but feeling that he was beyond logic.

When the man did nothing, Erik advanced. He now stood with his forehead inches from the end of the pistol and his hand around the man's throat. Shocked, the man's friend stood motionless, as did we all.

With a hiss of anger, Erik squeezed the man's throat. The German's hands began to shake and it seemed like hours passed before the weapon fell to the ground at his feet. A glint of metal passed as Erik pressed a blade to the man's throat.

Horrified, I realized that Erik wouldn't give a second thought to slicing the man's throat wide open and we all were going to watch, like a bunch of heathens. I stepped forward, my fingers cold with nerves. _He wont hurt me. I have to believe he wont hurt me_.

My eyes blinked closed as I breathed a gulp of crisp air deep into my lungs. The chill of the oxygen shocked me from the haze of the moment, as I had hoped it would. Logic and courage ignited within my belly, moving rapidly through my system. I reached forward and laid my hand on his shoulder. Releasing the man's throat Erik watched as the man crumpled to the ground, sputtering for breath.

My own breathing came in shallow gasps and with a start; I realized my own neck was in Erik's grasp. His golden eyes blazed into mine: fury, hurt, betrayal, and countless other emotions danced perilously in the flames. His grip was unshakable. My hands went to clasp onto his as I fought the urge to scream. His mind was lost and no screams from me would help bring him back.

"Erya! Erya please! Don't do this!" I squeaked. From the corner of my eye, I saw Yuri move towards us but I raised a hand to stop him. I wouldn't see Erik's fury turned on him too.

I tried again, my brain managing to form words in his native tongue. "Erik. Lâches-moi! Tu est mon ami…s'il te plait!"

His seething eyes softened as I began to feel lightheaded.

My knees shook with the effort of holding me up before I felt the ground come rushing up to meet me. Just as I had prepared myself for the harsh impact of the earth, a pair of strong hands grabbed me around the waist and lifted me into equally strong arms.

"Alya."

The awareness of my name sounding so close to my ear startled me into focus. Looking up, I found that it was Erik's embrace I was in. My head pounded from lack of oxygen but I couldn't find the energy to care. The warmth of his arms encompassing me and the compassion in his eyes made the pounding worthwhile.

"Alyona, I am so very sorry!" His voice shook as he attempted to form the sentence in Russian. "Sometimes…._Merde! Je ne peux jamais comprendre pourquoi je dois fait du mal aux aim__é__s! Je ne veux pas te blesser! Tu as devenue mon équilibre!__" _He continued to grumble in rapid French as he carried me back towards the camp.

Through the fog around my brain, I had enough sense to look over Erik's shoulder to see one German man helping the other to his feet.

"What did the man say to you Erik?" I asked softly, wanting to know what had happened to the man I thought I knew.

"Ne t'avise pas de demander ça!"

"Erik, you know I don't understand your French," I admonished, feeling my head start to pound from oxygen starvation and not having the patience to deal with his mood.

He cursed softly to himself before trying to translate. "You dare ask me that?"

"I am not scared of you Erik. I am scared of no one."

He chuckled softly but his voice lacked true humor. "That, I believe!"

"Erya, please!" I wanted an answer and this frustrating man seemed unwilling to give me one.

"Enough, Alya! Do you not understand what happened? I nearly killed you! I do not deserve the kindness of you or your people. I am going to tend to you and then leave."

Before I could respond, he deposited me onto the cart, pulling blankets up around my shoulders with a tenderness that surprised me. He looked me over, his gold eyes boring into mine before waltzing over to the others. As he walked, I saw him roll his shoulder in its socket and I noted for the first time his sling was not there. I sighed as I realized he hadn't noticed and most likely wouldn't notice until blood came gushing out!

As he approached the others, I watched as Yuri stepped towards Erik, his posture speaking volumes. He was ready to tear Erik limb from limb. I felt my own body tense in reaction but who I was more worried about, I couldn't say. After a few minutes, Yuri's battle stance relaxed as he began rummaging around in one his packs for something.

Closing my eyes, I brought my fingers up to my throat, feeling the tenderness of the flesh there. Certainly it would bruise and my mind panicked at the thought of having to explain the bruise to my father.

Somewhere near me, I heart a man clearing his throat and I opened my eyes to see Erik extending a cup to me. Taking it in both my hands, I brought it to my nose and breathed in the sweet aroma of herbs mulling in hot water. _The man had made me tea!_

"Yuri said this would help with any discomfort," Erik said softly, still obviously racked with guilt from his episode.

"Erik. Look at me."

His eyes rose to mine hesitantly. "I do not want you to leave. You cannot run away from this! I demand you stay."

He looked at me with a bit of confusion and I realized I must have used words he had not yet learned. "You must face this Erik…please stay."

He nodded softly. "I don't know if I can forgive myself."

"You will learn."

He smiled weakly and I couldn't help but reach out to grab his hand.

"Just promise you wont attack me again? I don't want to have to hurt you next time!"

His feeble smile turned to laughter, the sound low and strong, making my spine tingle. I tried to glare at him for laughing but found I wasn't truly offended. Soon, I couldn't contain my own mirth and we were both laughing, for the moment forgetting anything had happened at all.


	7. Repercussions

My back hit the hard trunk of the tree with enough force to rattle my teeth. I closed my eyes as the wound in my shoulder screamed in protest, having already been aggravated from my earlier blind rage. It was back in a sling, only because of Alya's stubbornness. After what I had done, I would cut off the arm if she asked. The guilt for nearly harming her was eating away at me and it only made matters worse that she seemed to feel no anger towards me whatsoever.

"I am speaking to you!" The large man growled in my face, his hands clasped tightly in my shirtfront. His knuckles were white and ashamedly I had to admit that his anger was just.

I couldn't meet his eyes, for shame and for fear. I made a mental note never to make a Russian angry.

"I should skin you alive for what you did to Alya!"

I nodded, nervous about agreeing with the man but knowing he was right.

"Papa! Stop!" Alya's voice shouted. I raised my eyes to look over her father's shoulder, seeing her coming running towards us. She slowed to a walk, her breathing ragged and her cheeks flushed an alluring pink. I watched in amazement as she clasped onto the man's large arm and yanked him to face her. The force of her tug hadn't been enough to even faze the man but he relented to her anyway.

"I said stop, Papa!"

"Alyona, this man-" I was horrified when she interrupted him. He was furious and yet she wasn't the least bit intimidated.

"I know Papa. But I knowingly took a risk when I tried to stop him from killing the German. He is not entirely at fault. You need to forgive him. I have." Her eyes looked to mine, a charming shyness coming over her as she glanced at me.

"I will never forgive him for taking out his temper on you…however, I will allow him a second chance for having done our people a service in dealing with the German soldiers." The man turned his dark brooding glare to me, looking me square in the eyes. "Step out of line again, and I will kill you!"

When I nodded my understanding. He too nodded once, then left. I found myself feeling a bit shaken as I rested against the hard wood of the tree for a moment. His words hadn't been a threat, but a simple fact to him, which made them all the more forceful.

I closed my eyes over the torrent of emotions racing through my veins. After a few moments of letting them run their course, I felt a pair of eyes on me. I peeked one eye open to see Alya staring up at me.

"Yes_, ma chère_?"

"I'm sorry about how my father reacted…"

I shook my head, not wanting to hear her apologizing for anything. "There is nothing to apologize for. He loves you and I was…beyond words…"

In horror, I watched as she grabbed my hands in hers. I was powerless to stop her. All I wanted was to wallow in my own misery but she would have none of that.

"Erya! I saw you try to protect me from the bullet."

"You mean before I choked you," I asked, allowing my self-disdain to drip from the words.

She shook her head, as if I were nothing but a silly little boy throwing a tantrum. "Come. Allow me to check your wound." I sighed, wondering if she was daft or simply too kind for her own good as I followed her back to the camp.

Absentmindedly, I noted that lying on my back in the Alya's cart was becoming a familiar and dare I say comfortable place for me. Her nimble fingers cleaned and dressed my wound with little to no discomfort. A small and sadistic part of me wished she had hurt me, if only so I could feel like I had paid for my actions against her.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Her voice was sweet and soft, and as much as I appreciated her concern, I missed the temperamental side I knew was a part of her.

"I don't intend to strangle you again, Alya. No need to be so cautious," I reproached. Alya huffed in reaction before leaving me to my own devices.

I awoke with a start, not even remembering falling asleep. Bolting upright, I frantically looked around, worried at the silence surrounding me. Catching a glimpse of the soft orange-yellow light of a fire barely concealed in the woods calmed my panicked mind. For a moment I had thought the Germans had returned while I was sleeping. The sickening dread still rolled in my stomach as I allowed myself to flop back to the blanket beneath me, breathing in a deep sigh as I tried to right my body. My wound ached dully but only fractionally compared to what it had at first.

The soft sound of accordion music brought my attention back to the light in the woods. Music. It had been so long! I suddenly felt ravenous for it, having been starved since we left Paris. I followed the sound blindly. A seaman responding to the siren's call.

When I joined the group, a few of the men looked up, but most treated me with their usual indifference. Stiffening my spine in response, I moved over beside Yuri, taking a seat around the large fire. A few of the older women danced or beat on a tambourine but they didn't interest me. There was only one woman I wished to find among the group. Yuri lifted his hand and pointed across the flames to where Alya sat beside her father.

The large Russian man had a guitar propped against his knee and was chatting with those around him. As I watched, Alya's brow furrowed slightly. Her eyes looked around before coming to rest on me.

Her gentle smile melted a part of my heart I had long thought frozen. She stood slowly to make her way towards me. Her hips swayed elegantly as she moved, and my soul labeled the hypnotizing motion as a subtle reminder for me to keep my distance.

"Fransuzka! I see you decided to join us!"

I nodded, my throat suddenly to dry to speak. Finally finding my tongue, I asked, "Why the music?"

"Many of us are musicians…" I saw her struggling to put her answer into words, "It is part of who we are. We need it."

"Do you play?"

She nodded softly, pointing to a small black leather case beside Yuri's foot.

"May I?" She picked up the case gingerly before depositing it into my awaiting hands.

I opened it slowly, my fingers tingling with anticipation. Inside, nestled in dark burgundy velvet was one of the most magnificent violins I had ever seen.

Overwhelmed by the work of art, I heard myself mumble. "Where did you get this?"

After a moment's hesitation, she took the case from me. I cannot explain the emotions that stirred within me as I watched her looking at the violin. She looked at it as if it were a religious relic to be worshipped, the same look I had on my face when I purchased my own first instrument. For that reason alone, the request to play tumbled out of my mouth, something I had never allowed another living soul to do.

She nodded her acceptance and I cringed, realizing what I had done. Now because of my impulsiveness, I would be forced to listen, be it good or bad.

_If nothing else_, a darker voice in my mind piped up, _she will be amusing to watch._ Already, my thoughts were more inclined to travel down that dark path. Her body was bathed in the soft glow of the fire, causing shadows to caress her peachy skin where it was visible. Her clothes, though worn and slightly dirty, were colorful: golds, reds and purples matching only by virtue of their being thrown together. The bodice was tight but not overly so, intended to enhance, not to alter. I drew my eyes away from the swell of her breasts and forced them downward, hoping to quell such pointless thoughts. Her hips and legs captivated me as well and I nearly let out an audible curse. _At this rate, I will be forced to listen with my eyes closed!_

She picked up the instrument and held it against her slender neck, plucking a few strings to tune it before she began. Once she was satisfied with the sound, her hand reached down slowly into the case once more. Her small fingers wrapped tenderly around the bow and brought it up to the strings. Her hand shook slightly as her eyes darted to meet mine from where she stood near the hearth. The woman's eyes were deep pools that doused the flames of my anger, hate and betrayal, until I was left empty and wanting. Without breaking the contact, she lowered the bow onto the strings and drew it lightly across. Her eyes drifted shut as she became lost within the music.

The opening notes of a solemn string sonata reached my ears and opened my mind like a book. The melodies were intensely powerful and yet they held a sweetness that I had never encountered before. I turned to watch the young woman play, marveling at her beauty as she caressed the strings adoringly. I gawked openly as the fire played upon her skin, creating shadows on both her body and the instrument, making them seem like one single living entity. The music lived within her and although the melody was primitive, it reached deep within me and dug into my flesh, burrowing into my very heart. I felt something within my soul give way to her beauty and I allowed myself to truly look at the woman with the eyes of a normal man.  
With a start I realized I craved her music. I wanted to feel it coursing through me like it clearly did her. In the back of my mind a voice cried out warnings to me, but it was too late. I no longer wanted to listen to her music; I wanted to be her music, to be within her body, to be the one thing she desired above all others. The thought alone shocked me as I realized what it was I was imagining. The same small voice in the back of my head that registered the shock warned me fervently: _she could never want you._ The advice fell on deaf ears. It did not matter if she wanted me; I wanted her.  
The melody of the song changed, taking a more enraged and dangerous path. The sonata spoke of lost love, of the need for someone to understand and comfort, of betrayal. _Betrayal_. I could feel it coursing through my veins once more, tearing apart my very body, inflicting pain in every part of me it seeped into. I was being murdered, murdered by the very thing I adored, the one thing I still lived for: music. I clawed at its fingers, invisible yet so securely wrapped around my throat. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. I had to fight back; fight back for my life!

I had not been aware of my feet moving until I was less than a foot away from her back. She had not yet noticed I was close, so lost was she within her music. My shaking hand reached out on its own accord and spun her around, my breathing ragged with emotion.

The back of my hand encountered the feather soft tresses of her golden hair resting against her shoulder and some semblance of sanity returned to me. I felt my body fall under my command once again in the same moment my wild and churning mind settled, leaving me feeling empty and alone once again.

She looked for a moment as if she knew what had almost transpired. With grace, she smiled, covering up the near slight with ease.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, taking her free hand to kiss. "You play beautifully."

"Thank you."

"Excuse me." I turned on my heel and strode back into the woods, desperately needing to put space between this dangerous woman and I before I did something regrettable. _History will not repeat itself_, I vowed.


	8. Zemphira and Aleko

Erik seemed aloof for the days following the incident. He treated me with politeness when he had to, but otherwise kept his distance. I felt a little gloomy at the sudden change in him. I had gotten used to his snide comments and arrogant demeanor but it was gone, leaving a cold and detached man that I didn't know.

The weather grew increasingly colder. Not enough to be uncomfortable yet but not terribly far off either. However, luck had been on our side for much of the journey and we hadn't needed to halt our travel for poor weather conditions. Just as we were making the last leg from Germany into Czechoslovakia, our luck ran out.

The rain hit unexpectedly, forcing us to pull the carts into a relatively dense forest to wait it out. The men driving the carts set up tents to wait out the rain, while the rest of us were instructed to remain within the partially covered carts.

Feeling particularly cross at being stuck in close confines with the now mute Erik, I curled up in the darkest corner of the cart with a heavy blanket thrown over me.

Pulling out my book of Pushkin's poetry, I set myself to reading. No matter how hard I tried to focus, I still couldn't shake the feel of sharing space with Erik. He was a commanding man and being in his presence wasn't something you forgot about. After a few minutes of reading the same verse over and over again, I sighed in exasperation, apparently louder than I intended to.

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Erik's voice. "Everything alright, ma chère?"

Raising my eyes to look over the top of my book, I saw him sitting across from me, staring sightlessly out into the downpour.

"Yes. No. I don't know!" I set the book down beside me with a thud and threw my hands up in the air.

His eyes turned to me, their golden depths churning with countless emotions. My heart thudded a little faster as he scooted over towards me. He picked the book up, turning it over to run his fingers over the worn leather cover.

"May I?" I waved my hand in indifference. The pitter-patter of rain on the canvas over our heads was consistent, the sound eventually becoming soothing. I relaxed against the side of the cart as he opened the book.

Minutes ticked by as he thumbed through the pages, his lips moving indistinctly. I grew bored watching him and turned to take up his sentry.

"Poetry?" I looked up to see his eyes boring into mine. I shivered involuntarily, a response to the command in his eyes.

"Yes. Pushkin, our greatest poet."

"Shall I try to read us a few?"

"If you like. Your Russian has improved…" I added, trying to hide the annoyance I felt at having him intrude upon my reading as well, forget I had given it up!

He pulled out a ragged piece of cloth and lifted it for me to view. "Is this where you left off?"

I nodded and so he began:

"His daughter, youthful one and light  
Went for a walk in a field, empty.  
She's used to freedom, full and…"

He seemed to struggle with the word, trying to pronounce it under his breath.

"Zesty," I offered, my eyes still closed. The silence between us stretched long enough for me to wonder if I had done something wrong, but before long, the low timbre of his voice resumed.

"She will come back, but there's a night...  
And soon the crescent, still a-ruling,  
Will leave the distant clouds' set –  
Zemphira's absent, and is cooling  
A dinner the old man prepared.  
But there is she. Through the steppe, lone,  
A youth is following her steps;  
For the old gipsy he's unknown"

Erik stopped reading. I felt bereft, thinking it a shame to interrupt such a lovely work of art. I opened one eye to look over him. He was reading in silence, his eyes rapidly moving over the page. He then looked up to gawk at me, a furrow engraved in his brow.

After a moment studying him, I guessed at the cause of his disorientation. "No, the irony of the poem is not lost on me. Though I fear, this was my favorite poem long before I met you, so there is no need to speculate about divine intervention."

He nodded in silence, his throat constricting as if it was difficult for him to swallow the truth of my words. I pretended not to notice, allowing him to continue.

""My father," the young maiden says,  
"We have a guest. I've found him, missing,  
In a desert that mound behind  
And called for our camp for a night,  
He wants to be like us – the Gipsy;  
He's prosecuted by a law.  
I'll be his friend, the true and fair –  
His name's Aleko – and therefore  
He vowed to follow me everywhere.""

The absence of his harmonious voice made the silence even more deafening. The rain continued its rhythmic onslaught but neither of us seemed to notice enough to care.

"Is this why you took me with you? That day in Paris?"

He inched ever closer until his thigh was close enough to mine that I could feel the heat passing between our bodies. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the masculine scent of pine and sandalwood that seemed to surround him. There was something thrilling about seeing the soft side to such a mysterious man who was more than capable of killing with his bare hands.

I shook my head, "No. I wish I could say it was…it would be very poetic…and even a little romantic." I blushed as soon as the words tumbled from my mouth. I rushed on, "but no. I simply thought no man should die abandoned and in pain. You seemed in need of kindness…" I shrugged, not knowing what else I could say.

His hand rose slowly, his fingertips cradling my jaw as his thumb stroked my cheek lightly. "…and you had plenty to spare."

My mouth gaped open like a fish out of water, wanting to respond while his touch robbed me of all speech. His yellow eyes softened to the color of fresh honey; warmth within them I had rarely seen. "Zemphira," his voice seemed to caress the name. "It suits you."

"I am not-"

"Shhh. Can I not be your Aleko?"

My pulse beat out a wild rhythm within my chest, certain something was changing between us. I was eager for it, feeling like I had never before known someone as I was getting to know Erik.

"I don't know what you want from me…" I admitted shamefully, my gaze fleeing to the ground.

His body stiffened for a moment, I could feel it even if I didn't dare look at him. His thumb stopped its caress to rest under my chin, applying pressure and forcing my chin up, making it impossible not to look into his eyes. I felt guilty, knowing my question had upset him but not understanding why.

I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding as his body relaxed again.

"Alya, I want you to be strong enough to refuse me. I have a tendency to hurt people I…people I…care…about. I do not wish to do that to you…but like the foolish Aleko, I would follow you everywhere if you let me…"  
He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me just an inch closer, but close enough that I had to lean against his unshakable frame.

"Fransuzka, is that why you have been avoiding me?"

He looked surprised. "You noticed?"

"I was beginning to wonder if I had done something wrong…if I meant nothing to you…" It was physically uncomfortable for me to talk to him about how I felt, but I sensed it needed to be done. For both our sakes.

"No _ma chère_. The fault lies with me."

"So you do care?"

"Yes. And that is why you have to be strong…you have become my weakness…"

"You're ridiculous," I scoffed.

"Maybe. But what if I am not? I will not hurt you!"

"So…,"I gulped over my own heartache. _Why was he asking this of me? What had happened?_ "I am supposed to keep you at a distance?"

"Yes," he breathed the word, as if it would have physically hurt to truly say it.

"Now?"

I could feel the distorted flesh of his deformity against the top of my head as he rested his cheek there. "Tomorrow," he sighed as he hugged me closer to his side.


	9. Other Plans

The rain stopped late during the night, but the men thought it best if we moved on regardless of the hour. When I woke, it was to the soft sway of the cart on the road, my father having neglected to wake me upon resuming the trip. I yawned, turning my face into the blanket beneath me to stifle it. Still in my sleep-induced haze, I became aware of something strong and warm against my back.

Raising my eyes to look sleepily over my shoulder, I was shocked to alertness when I saw Erik asleep propped up against the side of the cart. I followed his relaxed form down to see the creased fabric on his shoulder where the indentation from my head was still visible.

I looked to the front of the cart where my father met my eyes. He nodded to me before returning his eyes to the road, silently letting me know that he knew the innocence behind our actions. Vaguely, I wondered why my heart was still pounding out an uneven rhythm and I had the sickening feeling that I was lying to my father.

I shook off the sentiment as I recalled the last night's conversation. Feeling a low seething fire in my belly at the memory, I moved up to sit beside my father and leave Erik to his slumber alone.

"You have done well with him _maya dochka. _He seems in good health_, _his Russian is passable and as far as I can tell has been on his best behavior. You may have made a Gypsy of him yet," my father said softly.

"Papa…I am angry at him…"

"Because you are starting to care for him more than you'd like?"

I nodded. "I don't need a husband! I am fine living a gypsy's life! I love being with you and the others! Falling in love would only ruin those plans…"

"While I don't want to see my only daughter married off, this man," he nodded back towards where Erik was still sleeping, "needs a woman in his life. One that he can learn to trust again. You hear him as well as I do at night. Calling out her name, cursing her and declaring love for her in the same breath. You are strong and I know you wouldn't give up on him…If you do not wish to be with him, just be his friend."

"I don't know if that line is so clear to me, Papa…"

A yawn sounded behind my father and I. My father didn't respond as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and hugged me to him. I leaned in to his embrace and rested my head on his shoulder. I rode like that for a while, trying bitterly to ignore the fact that I had rested on another's shoulder in the same manner, only the night before.

We finally stopped for the night somewhere near one of the low mountains somewhere in Czechoslovakia. As I began to unpack the essentials, Erik announced to my father that he would go cut firewood for the evening. My father thanked him before tending to the horses.

Half an hour later saw the tents set up but no firewood. My father lead a large dark chestnut stallion over to me. His harness had been taken off, his broad back bare, the fur soft and silky to the touch. I caressed the animal a moment as my father instructed me to go find Erik and loan him the horse for when he was finished and needed to haul the wood back. I thought about refusing but looking at my father robbed me of that possibility. Grumbling, I set off into the wooded area just beyond camp.

Following his tracks was easy enough and when I finally came upon him, he was deep within the forest, a large pile of firewood at his feet. The axe was high above his head, the muscles of his shoulders taught underneath the white linen of his shirt. I pulled my gaze away, annoyed at my initial reaction to him.

The dark stallion I was on tossed his great head in agitation, most likely picking up on my own mixed emotions. Erik looked up as we neared him and started forward as I pulled the animal to a halt. He looked as if he intended to help me down but it must have been the look on my face that stopped his progression. I dismounted the horse in one smooth leap, bending my knees slightly as my feet hit the cold hard ground.

Erik's gold eyes stared at me with a kindness I loathed to see. I steeled my own, remembering how he had pushed me away and bitterly repaying him in kind. I walked the horse towards him and motioned for his hand impatiently. He obeyed immediately and without question.

"My father wished me to deliver the horse to you, so you could carry back the wood easier…" I stated as I deposited the reins in his hand and turned my back to him, beginning the long trek back to camp.

"Alya, if you will wait, I can give you a ride back…?"

"No need," I called over my shoulder, wanting to escape him as quickly as possible.

"I insist. I will only be a moment longer!"

"No," I practically hissed the word.

"_Ma chère_," I stopped dead at the sound of his favored nickname for me rolling of his lips, "I would feel better knowing you were safe…"

I was taken aback by the amount of fury that rose in response to his soft and caring tone. _How dare he push me away only to draw me in again? What sick joke was he playing?_ Before I could convince myself otherwise, I rounded on him, stalking towards him as the fire in my veins raced through me.

"How dare you?"

"Excuse me?" To his credit, he looked truly confused.

"Do you get some kick out of it? Playing with me, like a cat does a mouse?"

"Alya, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you and your selfishness!"

"Selfish?" Hurt and anger mixed within his eyes, making the outrage I felt only increase.

"Yes! Selfish! You pretend to care about us but it is all a lie! You are only still here because at the moment we are convenient! Well, I wont have it! You might as well just leave!" My voice hitched but I was proud that it didn't break, "Get out! Go!"

Erik stalked forward, his hands reaching out to catch my face firmly between his palms. For the first time, my heart didn't skip as he touched me, the flames of rage too strong, scorching all other emotions to ash in its wake.

I glared into his intense gold eyes, feeling my heart give a little at their warm honey coloring. I mentally kicked myself, squaring my shoulders as if that helped build a barricade against his attack.

"You know that is a lie! Why are you doing this?"

"Why? You of all should know! You said you wanted this! Well, you command and I obey," I snarled, certain the sarcasm was a tangible thing.

Recognition veiled the power behind his eyes, like a sheer curtain covering a window. "You mean last night…" he let his statement hang in the air between us. I grabbed his wrists and yanked them away, forcing his palms to leave my flushed face. Then, placing my palms on the firm chest over his beating pulse, I concentrated my strength and shoved.

He stumbled back and so I invaded the space I had created, bringing my face close to his yet again. "Have you so easily forgotten?" My throat hurt from raising my voice and I was fairly certain for the last few minutes, the camp would have been able to hear as well. At least, my body stated it felt that way.

"Of course not. Please, be reasonable. I only-"

"-only wished to erode the walls around my heart, so you could push me away for your own amusement." I pounded once on his chest for good measure.

"You know it wasn't like that…"

"No? What was the plan then? Befriend me, seduce me and then push me away?" Again, I beat my fist against his chest.

He grabbed my wrists, pulling them tight to his body. He hissed between his clenched teeth. "Alya! Stop!"

"No! I have to know! I swore I wouldn't allow myself to feel anything for you. I thought I had protected myself and yet, last night, you crushed the hopes I hadn't even known I had for us into the ground! You broke down my defenses without effort! I cannot believe I was so stupid to allow myself to feel anything for you! You are a heartless bastard and I want nothing more to do with-"

Before I could finish my sentence, his mouth descended upon mine in a passionate kiss.


	10. Acceptance

The sensation of his mouth against mine was so sudden and unexpected that I didn't even have time to consider stopping him. As his lips caressed mine with a passion I had not experienced before, my stomach flipped in excitement. Heat spread through my veins and all logic was lost from his heady kiss. His lips were gentle, uncertain even, but his hands were sure and powerful. They moved from holding my face to tangling in my hair behind my head, with or without his conscious decision, I couldn't say.

I was helpless, a puppet under his spell. I could do nothing but react to him, moving my mouth to the slow delicious rhythm he had set. My arms snaked around his neck, bringing my body close enough to lean into his. At the sensation of his hard muscled body making contact with my soft pliant one, a low growl escaped from him before he broke away, leaving both of us gasping for breath.

My heart galloped as if I had been running for miles. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against mine. When I finally felt logic return to me, I met his gaze nervously.

Tears flooded his eyes as he looked at me. His palm came up to cradle my face, his fingers caressing my flushed cheeks.

"Forgive me," he pleaded. I watched as a tear slid down the disfigured half of his face, dipping in and out of crevices as it slowly trickled down. I reached forward to catch it with my thumb, being careful not to be too rough, not sure if the frail skin was tender.

"If you mean for last night, you have much groveling to do. If you mean for the kiss…there is nothing to forgive," I said softly, seeing the vulnerability plainly on his face and realizing something more profound was happening between us than I could even comprehend.

The answering wonder in his eyes was devastating. He leaned in and hesitated, his glistening eyes looking to mine, gauging my reaction. I smiled softly and he inched ever closer. When I could take no more of his uncertainty, I closed the remaining inches, meeting his lips once again.

His body melted into mine, relief evident in the way he wrapped his arms snugly around me. He seemed ravenous and it was all I could do to keep up with his fervent kisses. When his tongue traced the seam of my lips, my stomach fluttered in response. Without a thought, I opened my mouth to him, allowing him to deepen the kiss. A low whimper escaped from me at the sensation, his own response to wrap his hand around the back of my head and hold me to him. Eventually, we were forced to stop to catch our breath once again.

"So, shall I take that as your refusal to avoid me?"

I smiled, unable to do anything else.

"This will certainly end in disaster…," he mumbled, more to himself than to me. He ran his fingers once through his dark chocolate brown hair.

Reaching out, he pulled me to him, enfolding me in his strong arms. "Be honest with me please, ma chère. Do you regret allowing me to kiss you? It is not too late. We can pretend it never happened…"  
"No," I said without thought, knowing in my gut that having felt many things with his kiss, regret wasn't one of them.

"Good," he breathed against my bare neck, making the fine hairs stand on end. A delicious shiver worked down my spine until even my toes felt the jolt. The sensation of his lips pressing a kiss to the spot just below my ear made my knees weak. "…because I want never to forget this moment. Though, you are welcome to remind me whenever the mood strikes you." I looked at him in indignation and he chuckled.

"You have a wicked tongue," I reprimanded.

He trailed his lips along my neck to my ear. His teeth nibbled lightly on the lobe, before he whispered, "You have no idea just how wicked!"

I jumped away, smacking his arm with the back of my hand. He released me, grinning with male arrogance. Even with the setback of his face, I still believed that some part of him knew the seductive power he could wield.

"Come, _ma __chère__._ I believe your father is waiting and as delightful as your company is, I am not yet willing to martyr myself for one kiss, however heavenly it may have been!" Not waiting for a response, he took my hand in his and walked with me over to the woodpile. We worked in amiable silence as we filled the packs on the horse.

When we had finished, he mounted the horse, who stomped his feet with excitement. Erik extended his hand to me, a heartfelt smile lighting his eyes as he looked down at me.

I wrapped my fingers around his and with astonishing ease, he pulled me up in front of him. His arms wrapped around my waist to take the reins in his hand, my stomach warming even at such a simple contact.

I sighed, feeling as if I had just made great progress in confronting Erik. I only hoped every time it wouldn't take a loud and heated argument to do it._ Or, at least I think I don't…_ I thought, grinning.


	11. Phantasy

The kiss. I would not believe I had shared such a wondrous experience with a woman like Alya if I still didn't have her within my arms still. Her slender back was pressed deliciously against my chest and I could feel her heart beating against my own. I sighed, leaning forward on the back of the horse to place my chin on her shoulder.

"Erya, be sure to pay _some_ attention to where you are directing the horse!"

I mentally kicked myself when I realized the reason for her comment. I hadn't turned the stallion in the direction of the camp at the right moment and we were now headed in the opposite direction. My face grew warm with embarrassment but her harmonious laughter helped ease the sting of shame. It wasn't long after righting our path, my mind wandered again.

I truly did not know what had passed between Alya and I. Thinking I was doing her a favor, I had pushed her away only to have her come back at me, ready to fight. That spirit within her ignited a passion in me I hadn't felt before, not even for Christine. At that thought, some part of me was already in panic. Clearly I had hurt Alya by mere accident by pushing her away. What would happen if I lost my temper and intended to hurt her?

Alya's warm palm against the back of my hand brought me out of my brooding. I gawked at her as she smiled over her shoulder at me. There were so many reasons for her to fear me, and yet she didn't. Not only that, but she and I had shared a surreal kiss, one that ignited fire in my veins at the memory alone. Feeling my stomach drop with nerves, I leaned forward and kissed her temple. Her heart-stopping smirk rewarded my bravery.

As I began to recognize our surroundings, my heart skipped. We were nearing the camp and I knew the dream-world I had been in would whither away. I could only pray Alya wouldn't wake from it as well, and feel as if it had been a nightmare.

Upon arrival, we were greeted by Alya's father and a few of the other gypsy men. Alya and I were instructed to go change for dinner which would be ready shortly. I loathed the idea of letting her leave my sight, wondering if she was in fact an apparition created by a lonely mentally disturbed man living below the Paris Opera House. I had no real choice, but to watch her walk away until she was out of sight.

I offered to help load the wood into a supplies cart but the other men declined, telling me to go clean up as well. I did as I was told, which surprised all, and walked back towards Alya's father's cart, my mind lost in the memory of the kiss.

After dinner, we all sat around a large fire, savoring the warmth and a good supper. Some soft conversations were being held here and there but most of the group stared into the flames, drinking up the heat and the light as if it were part of the meal.

Alya was seated across the fire from me, carrying on a conversation with a group of older women. Occasionally, when the old women weren't looking, I was able to catch her eye, bringing a soft smile to her delightful lips. Pride swelled within me, each grin a victory for a recluse like me.

My attention wavered when I saw Alya's father pick up a worn looking guitar, plucking the strings lightly to tune it. _Music_. I had nearly forgotten. These people, though so different from me, shared a part of my soul. Their music spoke to me and it had rejuvenated me in a way I never expected. I felt my lips tilt into a contended smirk as I settled in to listen.

The guitar began its sweet but simple melody, the minor notes tied together with a fluidity that was only interrupted occasionally. An abrupt silence permeated the group until the guitar once again resumed the song. A violin came in moments later with an eerie theme, melody also simple but the rhythm far more complex. I watched in shock as Alya stood, her body swaying to the haunting tune. Forgetting the instruments entirely, my eyes glued themselves to the gypsy beauty before the flames.

Shadows played against her pale skin as her feet tapped the ground to the instrument's rhythm. Her body swayed and stretched, hands seeming to caress the air. Taking on a life of its own, her hair spilled down her back as her long neck tilted backwards, her body following until it seemed like she had folded herself in half. For a moment I recalled a myth I had read about sea sirens and them luring innocent men to their deaths. Though I was by no means innocent, I wondered vaguely if this stunning woman would be the death of me anyway.

Picking up its pace, her feet took the music's lead, now moving in a rhythmic dance. Spinning tirelessly, her hands raised to the sky, curling around her with a grace I had seen few other women possess. The violin echoed into the silence, moments after the bow had paused and both men seemed as lost within their music as I had ever been. A sense of freedom dominated the music but there was also a strong sadness accompanying it, telling a story of loneliness and lost love.

My heart ached for these people, realizing for the first time that I was not the only one who had lived a life of solitude, cut off from the rest of humanity. Hands now moving in a controlled desperation, the violin sped up even more, forcing her pirouettes to a frantic but mesmerizing speed. Her skirt seemed to be a part of her, flowing out to frame her beautiful legs.

The Russian playing the violin moved to the same frantic speed of Alya's feet. Regretably, I could find no time to admire the man's skill as my eyes were drawn to her hands buried in the fabric of her skirt and flourishing it like a bullfighter's cape.

Others around the fire began to clap out the beat and seeing the freedom in her movements and the energy in the others, I couldn't help but follow along.

A few of the other older women could no longer stay still and rose to their feet, joining in the dance as the beat again slowed. Others found other ways to participate, some singing, another beating out the rhythm on a tambourine.

Alya's bright blue eyes found mine from across the fire, ignoring the lock of her golden hair that had fallen across her forehead from underneath her bandana. Her feet never lost the beat, not even when she bent to pick up one of the small girls and bounced her along with the music.

I closed my eyes and allowed the beauty of the sounds around me wrap me in a warm embrace. I couldn't remember a time when I had been able to share a musical experience with others, hearing their excitement and sharing the overall splendor. Sensing someone close, I forced myself to calmly open my eyes, reigning in the anger I felt at having a stranger impose on my thoughts.

My gaze met Alya's, her feminine hand outstretched towards me, warm eyes inviting. I struggled with myself for a moment, uncertain what she wanted.  
"Alya?" The music stopped as the gypsies watched Alya and I with uncertainty.

"Come on Erik." I didn't have time to debate how much I trusted her, I grasped her hand with my much larger one and tugged in an attempt to pull me to my feet.

I stood, feeling like the beautiful moment was gone and I was once again the child on display at the circus. The only tie I had to the present was the intoxicating scent of Alya's skin and the warmth I could feel radiating from her body. Grabbing both my hands with her own, she moved back towards the fire, tapping out the rhythm with her feet, clearly expecting me to follow.

I felt awkward, knowing all the others' eyes were on me, but Alya kept her beautiful gaze glued to mine, even while she twirled before me. The music resumed, as if there was no choice. I wondered for a moment if we were all at the mercy of Alya's dazzling beauty.

Instinctually lifting my arm, I allowed her to spin towards me, remembering the move from one of the many ballets the Paris Opera House had produced. The grin on her face when she finally ended the series of turns was well worth the stares of the others. As their clapping resumed, I too took up the rhythm with my feet, letting the blood pumping through my veins to give my muscles direction. Our hands still intertwined, I pulled her towards me, only to spin her back out again. The sound of her joyous laughter made my spine tingle and my body tighten. Nearing its end, the music once again slowed to its original Adagio tempo.

I swallowed the lump in my throat that had suddenly appeared as she approached me, her arms boldly wrapping around my neck as she continued to sway. Her hips moved in a slow S pattern and my hands moved hesitantly to hold her waist, feeling the movement of her dance beneath my suddenly clammy palms. As the song ended, I found the courage to dip her backwards, her body relaxing against my arms in a show of complete trust. The sentiment was not lost on me, but I would examine it at a later date, when the curve of her body and the bareness of her shoulders and neck were no longer so vulnerably displayed for my hungry eyes.

When I righted her again, her eyes swept over my face. I cringed, expecting her to cry out at the sight of my horrific disfigurement, even though she had seen it countless times before. I was unprepared for the light behind her eyes and the soft, sweet smile she graced me with.

Lacing my fingers with her own, she pulled me along behind her, away from the fire and the other gypsies.


	12. Zemphira's Curse

Near the fire was a hill overlooking a lake deep within a ravine, one of many in this region of Czechoslovakia. Far enough away from the light but still within sight of the group, it was easy to see the bright stars, strewn across the vast midnight blue sky. The air was cool, but it felt good against my heated skin as I lead Erik to the top of the hill, his hand noticeably warm within mine.

I sat on the hill's grassy peak, the dampness of the ground making me shiver. Erik lowered himself down beside me without comment. When he felt the shiver pass over me, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him to conserve warmth.

"You alright?"

I nodded absentmindedly, "Just a little chilly..."

"We can go back," he offered, clearly confused by my behavior.

"No, I wanted you to see this," I motioned up to the sky, and his eyes followed my direction. I wasn't sure what made me think he would appreciate such a simple thing as a nighttime sky but I still wished to share it with him.

"I have never seen anything quite like it," he offered softly, staring up into the vast expanse of blue. As I watched his reaction, his attention shifted down to the lake within the ravine. "My god!"

I smiled, knowing he too felt an overpowering sense of awe when looking at this place. "Feels like you're within the sky…I've always loved stopping here. It's a good thing to be reminded of the beauty within our lives…" The water was a mirror image of the sky above it, the stars reflecting in the calm water. When looking at it, it was easy to forget the ground beneath your feet and the reality of that world.

Erik looked to me, "It is beautiful!"

I sighed, feeling a calmness within me I hadn't felt before. The urge to roam was quelled and I could simply appreciate what was before me without feeling pressed to keep moving. Confused by this phenomenon, I decided not to examine it too closely, fairly certain I wouldn't like what I discovered.

"Alya, what happened to you?"

"Excuse me?" I looked at him, wondering if I had misheard him.

"What happened? You are certainly a kind woman but there's also a sadness within you that I cannot quite place. This morning, you mentioned a wall around your heart. I wish to know who hurt you so."

I bristled; hating that I had let my emotions get the best of me and in doing so had given out more information than I meant to. The fact that he had picked up on something that for years I had tried so hard to hide, only served to irritate me more.

"Drop it! It was nothing," I grumbled, hoping he would drop the topic to spare the moment.

I had no such luck. "Clearly it was not nothing," he pried.

"Will you not listen? I said drop it! I do not want to talk about it! You of all people should understand that!"

"Understand what?"  
"Not wanting to talk about your past," I fumed at him, feeling my muscles clench in anger. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was worried that in my fury I would say something to Erik that would do irreparable damage, but I watched as if behind a window, watching two trains collide. "I see the distrust flash in your eyes every time I look directly at you and I hear you call her name in the middle of the night! Sometimes in anger, sometimes tenderly! What did she do to you Erik? What happened to you?" His body stiffened and a dangerous glint returned to his eyes. "See? There are reasons we have built the walls…and sometimes its best if those reasons remain behind the barrier!"

I stood abruptly, too angry with him to appreciate the beauty surrounding us any longer. The magnificence of the place now mocked me. His questions scratched at the scab over my wound, the wretched memory now an irritated cut nearly reopened.

The familiar sensation of his hand wrapping around my wrist like a shackle tilted me off balance, forcing me back to the ground beside him.

"You have never asked about my past before!" His eyes flashed, the distorted half of his face looking even more alarming when set in anger.

I shoved at his chest, outraged that he had forced my compliance. "I merely asked the same question you asked me, _zver_!"

His right hand grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his blazing eyes. "What did you just call me?"

"I called you a "brute," you ass!" I shoved at his chest, wanting him to release me. He let go of my chin, only to wrap his fingers securely around my wrist yet again.

"Quit manhandling me! You have no right to touch me, _chyort voz'mi_!"

He growled and logic returned to me for a moment, urging me not to push him too far. I contemplated ignoring the warning.

"How dare you speak to me that way?" His voice was low, a snarl that I felt down my spine.

I felt myself soften, truly feeling sorry for insulting him. I hated that surrender in my resolve and wondered why it was with this man I was weak. _Weak_. What a horrid little word and how I abhorred him for bringing that out in me.

"I'm only stating the truth. You have no claim over me, Erya!" I hoped to lessen the blow by softening my tone.

He pulled me closer by his grip on my wrist. I didn't resist. "You are mine!" He growled the phrase, his mouth inches from my own. Deep in his eyes, I saw the insecurity, the fear that the kiss we had shared meant nothing. In that moment, my stomach flipped, feeling his hot breath against my face. The hand that held me tight was now looser, his thumb running over the brand on the inside of my arm with idle tenderness.

"My dear Aleko," I said softly, raising my hand to caress the distorted half of his face, "I am not. I am Romani and I belong to no one! It would do you well to remember that."

Stunned, when I moved away, Erik released me. Without looking back I returned to my father's side around the fire. My heart broke for Erik and I, knowing that one day he could call me his, if only we could learn to trust each other more.

_Well, that wasn't exactly a step in the right direction was it,_ I reprimanded myself, staring into the flames.


	13. At The Bottom of a Glass

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Cognac, please," I mumbled, fidgeting with the hood of my cloak.

The man was tall and thin, his face covered in auburn stubble; his hair was of a matching tone, cropped short. His attire was casual, most likely meant to make costumers feel at home: a light colored shirt and vest with brown trousers. He stared at me for a moment, as if he was trying to see through the dark fabric of my cloak, but soon decided he didn't care and left to pour me my drink.

Before long, the man returned and set the short glass down in front of me. I paid him with a couple coins from the small bag I had pilfered from the cart, reassuring myself that I had earned the pay in helping the gypsies with their chores.

"You are not Russian, though your Russian is good…" the man stated, looking intently at me.

I took a long drink of the caramel colored liquid, trying not to flinch at the harsh taste. Some things the French simply did better. I shook my head. "French."

"Ah, a beautiful country! My wife, always wished to see it! She says the beauty of it could rival that of our homeland. I think she is mad, but what can you do?"

"Which is?" The man blinked at me. "Your homeland," I clarified.

His face lit up as he proudly stated, "Ukraine." After a moment's thought he added somewhat bitterly, "Though the Russians claim we belong to them."

I nodded, irritated by the mere mention of Russians.

"Borysko," the man introduced, extending his hand to me.

"Erik," I responded, shaking it hesitantly.

"You seem troubled. It must be a woman!" I scoffed as I took another drink. The man grinned. "What is her name?"

I hesitated, but after seeing no harm in befriending the overly social man, I replied, "Alyona."

"A Russian?"

"Yes"

"In the Ukraine we have many sayings about Russians…"

"Like?" I feigned interest, growing bored with the man quickly.

"The devil you can ban with the cross, but a Russian you can never get rid of," the man laughed, shrugging his shoulders. I felt my body grow tense as the man snickered, feeling the insult down to my bones. _Why did I feel this way?_ The man didn't seem to notice my odd reaction. "Or another one: How can you tell a Russian? Go to sleep and he will rob you."

Another man down the bar with a similar accent piped up, having eavesdropped on the entire conversation, "My favorite is: better the devil in your house than a Russian."

Both men laughed in unison, the sound harsh, grading at my ears. My temper peaked and I was soon fuming that these men, who were not so different from the people they were insulting, thought the slurs funny.

The bartender nudged me, "Forget your Alyona! Only trouble will come from a Russian woman!"

Before I realized it, my hands were secured around the throat of the Ukrainian costumer, the bartender now silent at my back.

"The Russians I know are more respectable than a drunken bastard like you could understand," I spat in his face. The man looked truly frightened, having been petrified to sobriety. He sniveled an apology and I released him.

"Get out," I growled. The man took off, not even pausing to pay his tab.

"You, Sir, need to leave," the bartender said, voice anxious.

I rounded on him, still needing an outlet for my rage. I reached over the bar and grabbed his shirtfront, hauling him to me. "And you! Don't you dare even foul Alya's name with your tongue or I will cut it out of your mouth." The man shrunk back from me, his eyes going wide and his skin paling. Reaching up I felt my face, realizing that the hood had fallen down.

I pulled it up, looking around uneasily. Luckily, even though everyone was staring, my back had been turned so no one saw my face. "Not a word," I warned. The man nodded frantically. I released him and he scurried away into the kitchen.

"Respect? You have a funny way to showing it!" I spun around, intensely searching out the source of the voice.

A familiar looking man was leaning with his hip against the bar, looking directly at me. It took me a few extra minutes to recognize the man. Yuri, the Russian gypsy, dressed unlike a gypsy, but instead like the other men in the bar, watched me intensely.

I approached him, threatened by the fact that he had followed me without my knowledge.

"Hurt me and Alya will never forgive you," he stated calmly. I froze in my tracks, unable to move towards him.

"What do I care?" Still, I didn't move.

"I think you care quite a bit," the young man challenged.

"What are you doing here?"

"Trying to stop you from making a terrible mistake."

"This is none of your business," I fumed, feeling irritated and embarrassed that someone else had noticed the relationship between Alya and I. _If 'relationship' is what you call it, _I thought bitterly.

"Erik, listen to me. Alya likes you." I opened my mouth to comment but he raised his hand to silence me. "There's no doubt about it. We all saw the connection you two had, even before you recovered from your wounds." _How is that possible? She didn't know anything about me!_

Giving up on my hope to getting rid of him, I motioned to the barstool beside me. Yuri sat, turning in to face me. The bartender peeked out from behind the kitchen door and I motioned to Yuri. Hastily, the man shuffled forward and poured another glass of cognac, handing it to Yuri, hand shaking. I nodded once and the man again rushed off.

Yuri grinned over the top of the glass, "Sure have a way with people, don't you _Fransuz_?"

I glared at him and he smirked back. "I have no need of people," I mumbled grumpily.

"I think you like the company of people, but you don't trust them!"

An incensed heat sparked in my belly. "How dare you presume to know anything about me you filthy thief?"

"Coming from the man who stole coins and a horse from a bunch of travelers," he retorted, voice annoyingly calm.

I howled in frustration, kicking over a stool on the opposite side of me.

"Don't you have better things to do than torture me? What do you care about my personal life?"

"I don't, but I do care about Alya! Before you run off on her like a complete fool, there is something you should know!"

"I cant imagine what you know that I-"

"Just shut up and listen, you thick-headed _mudak_!"

For a moment I struggled between the desire to listen to him or to kill him. Curiosity got the better of me. I nodded curtly for him to continue.

"It was many years ago, when she was still a naïve teenage girl. There was a young, handsome man who joined our group: Alexei. He and Alyona hit it off immediately, finding many similarities between them. He was older than her by a few years and clearly knew his charms and how to use them. I guess you could say she was smitten with him. They were inseparable.

Then, that year when we traveled to Paris, we found that the gendarmes began targeting traveling groups, wishing to eradicate them from their streets. We have never been able to learn all the details but we believe Alexei was captured one day when he was off on his own. In exchange for his freedom and a decent sum, he sold out the location of our entire group; Alya included."

I felt my hands clench around the glass, wishing I could throttle this black-hearted manwho betrayed such a kind young girl.

Yuri continued, seemingly lost in the memory.

"They came in the middle of the night. With guns and shackles. We tried to protect the women, but we were simply outnumbered. Luckily at least half of us were able to get away. Alya wasn't so lucky.

For two weeks, we thought her and the others dead. Our hearts broke as we mourned our losses! Viktor, Alya's father was beside himself with grief. He blamed himself for her fate. You see, Alya is not his daughter by blood. She was an orphan, left to fend for herself in Sweden. Viktor and his wife found her on one of his trips there and took her in, raising her as their own.

Then, one morning, as we sat quietly around our fires, picking at our breakfasts, we saw a dark shape coming towards us. Then another! And another! One by one, those we thought we had lost wandered back into our camp, like ghosts in the night. Some physically injured, others seemingly fine physically, except for their baldheads and branded arms.

When Alya came into view, Viktor ran to her, falling to his knees and wrapped his arms around her. It was the single time I had ever seen the man show any weakness. Her beautiful golden locks were gone and angry bruises marred her delicate skin. She looked traumatized but at the same time, furious. She won't speak of it, but something happened to her by the hands of the French police. The spark in her eyes fled to be replaced by a calculated weariness."

"And Alexei," I snarled, wanting to know the traitor's fate.

"We don't know what happened to him. Never saw him again."

Yuri and I sat in silence, both lost in thought. I had only assumed that Alya knew nothing of the horrors I had in my life, but it seemed I was wrong. She had her own demons she was trying to outrun! I felt a sudden jolt of sympathy for her.

"Erik, didn't you ever wondered why a beautiful, intelligent woman like Alya, in her late twenties, is not yet married?"

"The thought may have crossed my mind…," I hedged, slightly uncomfortable.

"It is because she cannot trust her heart to another! She was betrayed by someone she loved! Certainly, Alya is strong. She has had to be. But whatever happened to her those two weeks in Paris scarred her. She needs someone to teach her that it is ok to trust and love someone." Yuri looked at me expectantly. I said nothing. "Do you love her?"

Caught off guard, I tried not to lash out. Instead, I stumbled over my words. "I…I don't know what that word means…I am not sure I am capable of loving someone. I am a monster and no one has ever loved me enough to allow me to love them back…" I pulled back my hood a bit, allowing the light to fall over my face for a moment before covering it in shadow once more.

"You are an even greater fool than I thought, if you believe that!"

"Yuri, I care about Alya, I really do! But how am I supposed to help her heal her past when I am still running from my own?"

"That problem, I cannot solve, but I urge you to try. She will try to push you away but it is only because she is frightened. I think you can learn from and help each other."

I couldn't stop the jealous words from tumbling out. "Do you love her Yuri?"

He sighed deeply. "With all my heart. I have tried to break through her shell but it is not in the cards for me. A glimmer of her former self comes back, lighting up her eyes when she's with you. As much as it pains me to see it wasted on a fool like you, if you are what she needs, then I shall help you."

"I don't need your help!" It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to not strangle the man, trusting him even less now that I knew how he felt.

"Fine. Leave then! And wonder forever if Alya was the one for you." He downed the rest of his drink and thumped me on the back.

Yuri placed coin enough for the both of us on the bar top and left without another word. Fuming from being lectured on love by a man many years my junior, I motioned for another drink, reaching into my cloak pocket to retrieve more money.

My hand was met with nothing but fabric. The cheat had robbed me! Overturning my chair in anger, I rushed out the front door, intending to catch the rat before he got away with the horse as well.

To my astonishment, the stallion was where I left him tethered outside the pub. After a few minutes contemplating this odd action, I realized he wanted me to have a way to return. I scratched my head in confusion. _Did I have an enemy or a friend?_


	14. Faith

I went to bed feeling sick to my stomach. I felt horrible for having lashed out at Erik. He had only been trying to learn more about me but he had tread on unstable ground, making me anxious and defensive.

After I left him for my father's side, I saw him trudge off out of the corner of my eye and I had the sinking feeling that he might not come back. That alone almost had me running after him, but to save my pride, I could not.

When we finally retired for the night, we found one of the horses and a small bag of coins gone. I was surprised to feel a few tears cascade down my cheeks. I wiped them away angrily, not wanting to be weak, but the hurt I felt was unexpected and confusing. _Who was he to affect me so?_ My father said nothing, not even caring to remark about the lost horse. Instead, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and held me until the tears stopped and a semblance of calm returned to me.

Papa helped me into the cart, rearranging blankets around me, tucking me in like he had done when I was a little girl. The sensation was comforting and mercifully, sleep came soon after.

I awoke in the middle of the night, a strong sensation of eyes upon me reaching down into my subconscious and hauling me to the living world, like a fisherman reeling in his catch. I fought to remain asleep but the pull was too strong. I found myself blinking away the fog of sleep and sitting up uneasily.

I nearly yelped at the sudden apparition of Erik in front of me.

"Alya?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Erik? What on earth…?"

"May I have a word?" There was hesitation in his words, reflecting the agitation he must have felt. I found it endearing, knowing how nervous I made him. Suddenly remembering the feelings from our argument earlier that evening, turned my words bitter again.

"Can it not wait until morning?" I laid back down and rolled over, not daring to look into his golden eyes, certain they alone could weaken my resolve.

My heart thudded hard in my chest as I felt his fingertips gently stroke over my bare shoulder, the blanket having slipped down as I turned. I could feel his breath against my skin, my whole body quivering in reaction to the sensation.

"S'il te plait Alya! Just a moment. I only wish to share a few words."

The heat of his breath numbed my mind. _Words? If my mouth can even form words! _"One moment," I managed.

His fingers traced one last caress before disappearing. For a moment I wondered if he had simply been a dream, he had vanished so quickly! Swiftly, I tied my hair up in a scarf and threw on a heavy cloak, feeling the chill of the night air more acutely without the warmth of Erik's presence.

Being exceptionally careful to not wake anyone, I left the camp; walking back towards the valley I had shown Erik earlier. He had not indicated where to meet him, but for whatever reason, I knew.

He sat alone on the hill, his broad back silhouetted against the dark but starlit sky. I approached him slowly, not sure what I was feeling in that moment, and even less sure how to begin with him after the words we had shared in anger.

"Come. Join me Alya. I promise to behave myself," his soft, musical voice reached my ears and drew me to him. I sat obediently by his side, waiting for him to give me my next instructions. Minutes passed and still he said nothing. As if a veil was suddenly lifted, I forgot my desire to obey and spared a passing thought for my sudden mindlessness.

I visibly shook my head for good measure. "What do you want Erik?" I purposely used his full name, not wanting him to mistake my acceptance for forgiveness.

"I want to apologize. I should not have pried earlier. It is your decision what to tell me or not tell me." I held my breath, allowing him to speak, mostly because I didn't know what to say back. His eyes met mine with a boldness that made my spine tingle. "Alya, _ma chère_! You must believe me! I didn't mean to upset you…or to offend. That is one of the last things I would like to do. I have grown to care for you, and your family."

The feeling of my heart melting from the look in his eyes irritated me to bitterness. "Do not mistake gratitude for care, Erik!"

His hand reached out to touch the back of mine. "I am not."

I got up, having heard enough and thinking that maybe it was best if I pushed him away. "Alyona! Wait!" He stood beside me, looking as if he wanted to reach out to me. I was simultaneously glad and disappointed when he didn't.

"I am not used to people accepting me as easily as you have. I have learned to keep people at a distance all my life, but with you I find myself wanting to know more. That is not the desire of someone who is merely grateful!" Finally, he stepped towards me, holding his hand out towards me. "Will you give me another chance?"

I took a step back, suddenly nervous. "Should I? You were going to run! You took money and a horse! Can you honestly tell me you intended to return?"

I watched as his lips formed a tight line, confirming my suspicions.

"So, will you not simply run off again when the mood hits you?"

There was confidence in his step as he moved closer. "Why will you not trust me?" I could hear the anger seething behind the words.

"As you trust me?"

He threw his hands up in the air, clearly exasperated with me. "How can I trust someone who makes me question everything I have ever known?"  
I tilted my head, my annoyance momentarily lost in confusion. Without warning, he began pacing, reminding me of a caged tiger I had seen at a circus as a child.

He nearly growled his response. "The world feared me! Everyone feared me! But I understood! I knew I was a hideous monster and so their fear was understandable…lamentable perhaps, but at least understandable!"

He stopped his pacing, standing less than a foot from me. His hand came up behind my head, strong and firm: unyielding. That confidence in him dissolved the fight within me. Without the haze of anger, I was suddenly very aware of his the warmth of his fingers against my hair.

"But you! You do not fear my face. You act as if it doesn't exist! Have you any idea how frightening and thrilling that is to me?"

Mutely, I shook my head. His hand reached up to sliding the material of my scarf down until the shoulder-length tresses ended, where it tumbled to the ground. Hu pulled a few of the locks over my shoulder, running the strands through his fingers against my collarbone.

"Not only do you not cringe every time you look at me, but when my temper peaks, yours rises to challenge me back!" His eyes rose to mine, their focus directed solely on my face. I felt my cheeks flush, an uncontrollable reaction that I was very conscious of. "I believe you are the sole person on this earth that can help me overcome my past and live out the rest of my days as a normal man, in peace." He scoffed, "I need you to teach me how to be a normal man! I was always a ghost, a phantom…but now…with your help, I could be so much more!"

"You are asking a lot of me, Erya!" I could feel my pulse, thudding with fear and excitement.

"I have faith in you!"


	15. A Leash on the Beast

I took both her hands in mine, feeling their warmth down to my bones. When I saw the hope spark to life within her eyes, I knew Yuri had been telling the truth. She needed someone to trust as much as I did.

The pretty pink tint to her skin was alluring, begging to be touched. My stomach flipped as I reached out to cradle her face in my palm. One moment passed. Then two. Both of us were painfully aware that if I closed the distance between our lips, there would be no going back. If I kissed her at this moment, we couldn't later claim that it had been in the heat of the moment: a result of mixed emotions and built up anger.

I felt my gaze drop to her lips, mesmerized by the temptation they presented me with.

The sound of twigs snapping behind me, doused my desire. An animalistic need to protect sprang to life in reaction to the sound. I pushed Alya behind me, spinning around to face the unseen threat, knees bent, and mind calm, ready for anything.

It took a few moments for my blood to cool as Alya's father, Viktor, walked into view. Suddenly realizing how many different ways our late-night talk could be misconstrued, my eyes retreated to the ground. I was suddenly certain that even if he believed the innocence of our secret meeting, he would know the darker more primal thoughts that swirled around my head.

"Papa, did you worry? I am sorry!" Her voice wasn't as bothered as I would have suspected, clearly unconcerned about what he may think about our being alone.

"No, Alya. I heard Erik come back and expected you two would to want to speak."

I cursed my own naivety, assuming that I had been unnoticed in the camp. A little voice in the back of my head raged at my recklessness, wondering when I had begun to let my guard down around these people.

Viktor's dark brown eyes stared me down, their color so unlike his daughter's, but the sentiment behind them very familiar indeed. "_Milaya maya,_ it is very late. Perhaps you should save your words for tomorrow?"

"Da, Papa…Goodnight!"

I made to follow Alya, but a large hand against my chest stopped my progress. "Fransuz, I'd like a moment." Uneasily, I looked to Alya, who only shrugged helplessly.

I nodded my head, seeing no other choice if I wished to remain with the group and in his good graces. We watched Alyona leave before Viktor motioned for me to follow him. I did as I was bid, walking silently behind him until we were concealed entirely by wild forest.

It was then that he turned to face me, his arms crossed over his chest, expression stern.  
"I am concerned for my daughter. She is kind-hearted and although she is strong, I do not think she could take another betrayal…" I started to shake my head, but he raised his hand to silence me. "I know Yuri spoke with you. I also know you intended to flee."

"I wasn't thinking. I am sorry about the money and the horse, I-"

"I do not care about that! I only wish to make one thing very clear to you! If you think that there is even a small chance of you running out on my daughter again, go! Leave now, before you've done irreparable damage!"

"I do not wish to harm your daughter, not now and not ever."

He nodded his head, as if he had expected that answer. "Good. Do not make me regret allowing you into our family!" With that he took my hand in his larger one and shook firmly. I watched in silence as he turned and began heading back towards the carts. When I didn't follow, he looked back at me over his shoulder. "We are leaving at first light. If you do not want to be left behind, I suggest you come back to our cart."

I followed him back in silence, thinking over his concern and honestly trying to determine whether I really was a threat to Alya. _Would I want to attempt to leave again? _It wasn't inconceivable to think that I could become overwhelmed or frustrated with the constraints of living with such a small but intricate group, having been a solitary man all my life. _Could I really leave to make my own life? Alone? In a foreign land so far from the familiar bustle of Parisian streets?_

As we reached the camp, Viktor turned to nod his head in my direction, a motion I concluded must have been a goodnight before he disappeared into a nearby tent. I sighed, my temples pounding from the mental strain I had placed on myself. _Forget the future! Just be grateful for the present!_

I climbed back into the cart, anxious to rest and allow my mind a moment of peace. The sight of Alya curled up in the corner of the cart, blankets askew around her, startled me. Though I had to admit to myself, the surprise was not unpleasant. With her father looming, I had forgotten I would be spending the night mere feet from her. Normally I was happy to merely be near her and just bask in her presence, but today, after sharing the moment we had, when I had so badly wished to kiss her from head to toe, the feet seemed like miles.

I approached her quietly, calling on the skills of the Phantom to not wake her. The irony was not lost on me. I couldn't help but notice the first time I had used a characteristic of my Opera Ghost half for an act that wasn't devious in nature.

Being careful not to wake her, I pulled the blankets out from underneath her and arranged them over her sleeping form. Her face was so very breathtaking in sleep, though it was missing the glow of her ever-present smile. I found myself grinning as I watched her for a moment, pleased to see her comfortable and serene.

Arranging another blanket as close as I dared, I too spread out to make an attempt at sleep. Unfortunately, with Alya so alluringly close, I wasn't sure how much sleep I would get.

The next day saw us nearing the outskirts of Prague. Many of the Romanis were running low on supplies and so Viktor made the decision to detour us through the large city. Upon breaking the news to the group, Viktor received many nervous looks from the others. I soon discovered the reason.

Apparently the view of gypsies in Czechoslovakia was no better than that of the view the Parisians held. Yuri volunteered to go before the carts to scout for the location of our next camp and Alya immediately refused to let him go alone. I watched them both leave on foot, feeling a inexplicable sense of dread at the sight. I puzzled over this for perhaps longer than I should have, as I helped Viktor with the horses before we made the leg of our trek through the foreign country.

After a few hours of waiting for Alya's return, I grew anxious. I voiced my concern to Viktor who looked even more on-edge than normal. When I could take no more waiting and announced my decision to go find the pair, some of the tension left the large Russian man which was all the encouragement I needed.

I kept my head down as I walked through the town. The buildings were magnificent, some extravagant like those of Paris while others were much simpler in style. I focused my attention on the sights, acutely aware of the stares of the horrified people.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a group of four young men leaning against the side of one of the larger stone buildings. I felt weak for doing it, but instinctually, my eyes retreated to the ground, feeling the tension in these men and knowing that provoking their ire would only result in disaster. _Where on Earth was Alya?_

My stomach dropped as one of the men pointed at me, making all four of them leave their posts to follow in my footsteps. _Damn! Not again!_

"Hey freak! Where do you think you are going?"

At the sound of the word 'freak' I felt myself bristle. It barely registered when my hands clenched into fists.

Another man trotted a few steps to stand in front of me. "Hey now! We were talking to you!"

"Apparently he needs a lesson in manners!"

"I suggest you leave, now!" I snarled, hoping to deter them from confrontation. I did not want to create problems for Alya and the other Romani's but patience was not a quality I was blessed with.

"It speaks, gents! The monster speaks!" Without warning, the man swept his leg out, making contact with my knee. My foot came out from underneath me, sending me swiftly to the ground. Silently seething, I made to get up but was kicked in the gut by a different man. Suddenly realizing the situation I was in, and what it could escalate to, I leapt to my feet, wrapping my hand around the throat nearest me!  
"I gave you fair enough warning!"

My head spun and it took a few minutes for my logic to fill in what my memory could not. Looking up, I realized my back was once again on the cobblestone road, guessing I had been hit from behind in the head.

"You think you can come into our town? A Gypsy? And a monstrous one at that?"

Immediately I stood, swinging my arm to make contact with the closest man's face. Before I could turn to aim for another, I closed my eyes at the sensation of knuckles slamming into my jaw. The taste of blood fouled my mouth, the coppery tang making my heart numb, realizing that soon it would come down fight or flight. I refused to flee. I had too much pride for that. I just prayed that Alya could forgive my violence.

"What is happening here?" The soft feminine voice was a welcome comfort, and I strained to put a face to the sound. My mind was swirling from the abuse. I only hoped the woman's reaction to my face would not make matters worse.

"My God, Erik!" The concern on Alya's face dissolved the fog around my brain.

"Well, well well! What have we got here! A young gypsy whore!"

"What is the price, my dear?"

I got gingerly to my feet as the men turned their attention on Alya. Gritting my teeth against the pain I tried to make it to her side before the other men did. No such luck.

I watched as one of the men approached her, a sly but predatory grin on his face. My stomach dropped at the sight. I sped up, intending to do whatever it took to protect her from these men.

A glint of metal flashed before the man stopped dead in his tracks. I too paused; shocked at how easily I had forgotten the strength of the Romani woman I was with.

"One step further and I'll gut you!" Her words slid off her tongue with a natural sweetness that only added intensity to her threat.

"Easy now! We don't want any trouble!"

"I find that hard to believe. I think you came looking for trouble." As she spoke, she circled around him, keeping the blade in front of her but making her way to my side. Through my concern for our safety, my heart warmed at the sight of her closing the distance between us. She placed herself beneath my shoulder, her back inches from my side, the warmth passing between our bodies, making the aches and bruises seem obsolete.

Her gaze never left the man before her but she tilted her head in my direction, "Erik, are you alright?"

"I will be, though it is taking all the self-control I possess to not to filet these men as we speak," I hissed. She nodded, showing no concern for my violent threat.

"I should let him kill you all, for what you did and everything you intended to do."

"Your people trespassed…"

"On what? We have done nothing; we were simply purchasing supplies and heading on our way! If you do not leave our sight in the next minute, you will wish we had merely trespassed!"

The man looked to his friends, seeming to weigh his options. After a moment of clear indecision, the main raised his hands in a sign of surrender, backing away from Alya slowly.

"Fine. We will leave… for now. Next time, keep a better leash on your beast! We cannot guarantee what would befall such a creature on these brutal streets…" The men slinked off, leaving Alya and I alone on the stone path.

When they had left our sight, Alya scanned our surroundings for a few extra moments. My senses picked up nothing out of the ordinary, or at least, nothing more concerning than a rat scurrying along in the shadows. With a huff of fury, she hiked up her skirt to replace the blade in its hilt around her thigh. My mouth went dry at the sight of so much of her skin bared to my hungry gaze, but she seemed oblivious to her affect on me.

"I cannot believe anyone could be so barbaric!" She grumbled to herself, as she righted her clothing. Looking back up at me, her hand rose to caress my face, any hesitation gone at the sight of fresh blood across my jaw.

"Oh Erik! What have they done to you?"

"It certainly isn't going to hinder my good looks," I mocked bitterly. The warm glow behind her eyes turned sharp in an instant.

"I'll have none of that, Erya or I will make what they did to you seem like a mercy!"

My mouth snapped shut, partially in indignation and the other in plain confusion. I tried to think of a proper response but my mind was too baffled by her warning.

Still trying to find any semblance of logic hidden away in the dark corners of my brain, I saw her reach down to the hem of her skirt, tearing a piece from it with surprising ease. Using the piece of fabric as a cloth, she began to dab at the blood along my chin with a focus that extinguished any rage I felt at her attempt at intimidation. The tenderness of her fingers against my marred flesh sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with being cold.

She continued to mutter to herself as she cleaned my wounds. "I will kill them for this! If I ever get the chance, they will wish they had never been brought screaming into this world!"

"_Ma chère_, this is not the first time this has happened. With me, people will lash out…it is only natural."

"No! It is **natural** to feel pity, or to avoid your gaze, but to make an attempt at your life-?"

"They were not-"

"They would not have hesitated, Erik! My God, they could have killed you! You cannot accept this!"

"What would you have me do? Report them? You aren't that thick, Alyona! Why would the officials listen to a word I had to say? I am nothing to anyone!"

"That is not true! I would listen! You mean something to me!"


	16. Fight or Flight

Above us dark clouds rolled in, slowly at first but as the winds picked up they began swirling through the graying sky. Somewhere off in the distance, thunder rumbled an angry warning. I spared the weather a momentary thought before dismissing it to focus back on the woman before me.

Her mouth clicked shut as her cheeks flushed a bright red. She opened her mouth as if to continue but no sound emerged. Her gaze retreated to the ground and for a moment her body was tense, a clear sign she wanted to flee.

A sense of humility came over me at her words, and although the sentiment was very foreign to me, it gave me strength. I reached out to place my hand firmly on her shoulder, refusing to allow her to run from what she said.

"That might have been one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me," I commented softly.

She looked up, surprise and sadness reflecting in her glossy eyes. "That cannot be…"

"My life was lonely and dim before you."

"The French-?"

"-have a great respect and admiration for beauty, and therefore have no tolerance for someone like me."

"I can't believe that," she murmured, shaking her head in astonishment.

"They were frightened of me. Weren't you frightened of monsters when you were a child?" I tried to keep the bitterness from my voice. Another rumble, slightly louder this time, echoed into the air around us.

"Erya, you are not a monster," She stated as she resumed wiping at the cut on my chin. "If I am certain of anything, it is that!"

"Even after I attacked you? Hurt you?"

"Everyone has dark moments, but they do not define us…I have been with you long enough to know what type of man you are. You are not a monster!"

"You're acceptance is a gift, _ma chère_…one that I will cherish."

"Those are not the words of a bad man, Erya. Remember that." She allowed her hand to fall gracefully to her side, wadding the cloth up in the palm of her hand. "There. That should do for now…do you feel alright?"

I nodded, taking a single step closer to her. She watched my movement with the wariness of a wild dog, but the look in her eyes spoke of wanting to be tamed. My breath hitched at the sight, realizing what a fascinatingly complex woman she was. The rain finally broke above, drops trickling to the ground around us. Alya turned her beautiful face up to the sky, allowing the rain to splash against her face, droplets sticking to her lashes and hair.

"There! That is the man that attacked me!" Both of our heads whipped towards the sound of the voice. My heart stuttered to find the new rhythm, this one to the cadence of dread.

"Why you lying, son-of-a…" I was horrified to see Alya begin waltzing towards the man.

I reached out to wrap my fingers securely around her upper arm. She rounded on me, ready for a battle that I was unprepared to fight. Over her head, I could see the men from earlier approaching, police officers following directly on their heels.

Looking back down on her, her fingers were clenched tightly into fists and her eyes spit fire. That passion within her ignited an answering flame within me, demanding I protect her, regardless of my own dignity.

Releasing her arm, I reached down, lacing her fingers with mine. The fervor in her eyes turned to confusion. "Erya?" Lifting her hand to my lips, I tenderly kissed the backs of her knuckles.

"Alya, run."

"I will not leave you!"

"For God's sake, Alya! They want me, not you!"

"Come with me!"

"I am not a weak man…" I stated, looking into her eyes. I felt the need to ask her permission to run, knowing it would take more than a threat on my safety to urge me to sacrifice my pride.

She shook her head, still uncomprehending. "No, of course not!"

I took off in the opposite direction of the approaching men. At the sight of my flight, they sprinted after us. At first, there was an occasional tug against my arm, Alya attempting to match my speed and stride. However, after a few moment of taking her over odd and rocky terrain, she had learned my pace, matching mine with the easy grace of a ballet dancer. Seeing her quick study, I decided to take a chance, vaulting a few smaller obstacles in an attempt to throw off the police.

I could hear shouts from behind us but the blood pounding in my ears stopped me from hearing what they said. Buildings flew past us as we continued our flight. Seeing an alleyway up on our right, I tugged Alya in the direction, still amazed that she followed without question.

My eyes caught sight of an old gate that triggered a relief-like feeling as we passed it and I stopped without warning. Alya fell forward but I had already wrapped my arm around her waist, catching her and hauling her back.

Her breathing was labored, and she seemed a little weaker but trustingly, she too stopped. Her eyes darted from behind us to further down the alleyway and I knew her instinct told her to run.

Along the stone wall, I saw an old iron gate with a latch hidden amongst its intricate script-like design. Running my hand underneath it, I found the clasp and pulled up. The gate swung open. Alya, not having noticed the latch or the fact I had opened it, was watching behind us nervously. I grabbed her wrist and tugged, stepping through the threshold and pulling the gate shut behind us.

Moments later, our pursuers rounded the corner, running right past us without even glancing in our direction.

In the shadows behind the gate, I held Alya to me, her back against my chest. I could feel her trembling, even after the men had passed. My heart constricted, feeling her fear. I wrapped my arms around her in the darkness, resting my chin on the top of her head, willing her breathing to match mine and a semblance of calm to return to her.

"Alya? Are you alright," I murmured, keeping my voice low in case the men were still nearby.

She looked up at me over her shoulder and nodded.

Taking her hand in mine, I regretfully moved away from her, leading her back into the courtyard beyond the gateway.

There wasn't much beyond the entryway besides a workman's shed, clearly long since abandoned. I approached it and tried the door. It swung open easily. Resting my hand lightly on the small of Alya's back, I directed her inside as she protested.

"Erik, we cannot be in here! This is not ours…"

"No one will notice us, I assure you! We need to dry off and hide out for a while." Searching the room, I found a cot tucked in a hidden corner. Brushing it off, I dragged it further into the open, motioning for Alya to come to me. She walked towards me slowly, twirling a lock of her wet hair around her finger as she moved. Trying not to be mesmerized by such an idle action, I helped her ease down onto the cot.

"Can we not return to my family?" She asked, biting her lip in nervousness.

"Not yet. It is still unsafe with men searching for us."

"I am worried they will have to keep moving."

"Did you not find a suitable camp," I asked as I moved about the small cabin, searching for a blanket or anything to dry her off with. Careful not to make excess noise, just in case the workers or owners were nearby, I opened drawers in an attempt to find anything useful.

"Not in town. Our inquiries were met with hostility."

I shook my head at the close-mindedness of people. "Do not worry about it now. You need rest. I promise to help you rejoin your father. Will he wait?" I nearly sighed in relief as I found a pile of dry blankets.

"He will want to, but for the sake of the group, he may continue on."

"What would be the next city he would stop in?"

"Brno," she supplied thoughtfully. Then, with more confidence, "Brno, I am sure of it!" I draped one of the heaviest blankets over her shoulders before sitting down beside her.

"Then if he is gone by the time we reach them, we will meet him in Brno." Leaning against the wall, I sighed in relief, feeling as if we were finally safe, if only for the moment.

"Erya?"

"Hmmm," I responded, eyes closed. Suddenly I felt the warm weight of her body leaning against my own. I hesitated before opening my eyes to see her snuggling in under my shoulder. Raising my arm to allow her more room, she scooted closer, giving me no choice but to wrap my arm around her.

She laid her head against my arm and simply rested there for a moment. "Nothing," she finally said.

I was about to pry when she began humming softly, a familiar sounding song though how and where I knew it from were lost to me.

"Dark eyes, burning eyes  
Passionate and splendid eyes  
How I love you, How I fear you  
Verily, I saw you at a sinister hour

Dark eyes, flaming eyes  
They implore me into faraway lands  
Where love reigns, where peace reigns  
Where there is no suffering, where war is forbidden

Dark eyes, burning eyes  
Passionate and splendid eyes  
I love you so, I fear you so  
Verily, I saw you at a sinister hour"

When she stopped singing, a part of me felt bereft. I looked down to her, intending to ask about the song. I said nothing as I caught sight of her eyes closed in peaceful sleep. I would remember to ask later, I decided as I too drifted off.


	17. Passion Awakened

I awoke to the light of day shining down softly on my face. Looking at my surroundings forced me to remember the emotional strain of the previous day. I turned my face into the blanket beneath my head, breathing in its musty scent. Silently, I willed it to smell of spice and horses instead.

"How are you feeling this morning?" I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Erik's voice, momentarily forgetting him.

"Erik! Good Lord! You startled me," I reprimanded, trying not to feel vulnerable from being caught so unaware. I watched as he moved out from the shadows of the room, the darkness seeming to roll off him as if it were a part of his very skin. The tilt of his head cast his face in shadow as well, seemingly without effort. I suddenly wondered at the odd trick, thinking that perhaps it was one of his many ways of protecting himself from cruel stares.

"My apologies," his low voice rumbled.

I glared at his formality as I stretched my arms above my head. "Didn't you sleep?"

"Only one or two hours. I am a light sleeper even when entirely… comfortable…"

"You mean safe?" He shrugged nonchalantly. I found myself growing angry at his lack of concern for his own welfare. "I would have kept watch so you could sleep!"

"I am fine, I assure you!"

"If you would like to rest for a short while now-?"

"I said I am fine! Damn it Alya! I am not a helpless child! I survived just fine before you came along! I didn't need anyone then and I don't need you now!"

The hurt was instantaneous. Swift on its heels was that seething anger I had grown familiar with in Erik's presence. I looked to my lap, pretending to inspect my nails when I was truly concealing the threat of tears.

From behind, I felt his hand rest gently on my shoulder. I shrugged it off, pleased with how harsh the movement was. "Alya. Forgive me. I did not think…"

When I didn't respond, I heard him moving around the room, clearly trying to get closer to me. I stood abruptly, fighting with my urge to run and the corresponding urge to lash out at him. Remembering that I was separated from my family did not help lighten my dark mood. I strode towards the door, intending to find my family and leave him behind since he 'didn't need me'!

Just as I reached for the knob, Erik was in my way, blocking the door from my sight entirely.

"Get out of my way Erik!"

"No."

"You said yourself you don't need me! Let me go!"

"No."

"Move!"

"No."

My anger at its breaking point, I raised my fist and sent it straight towards his jaw. Moments before making contact, his own forearm blocked my attack. Snarling in fury, I made a similar attempt with the other arm. His hand caught my fist in his palm, clutching on to it firmly and pushing me back. Having no other choice, I lashed out in any way I could: kicking, clawing, grabbing, hitting.

When my back hit the wall with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs, a shred of sense returned to me. Though I might be an above average fighter, this man was by far my superior. That realization added bitterness to my anger.

"Stop Alyona! Stop and listen to me damn it!"

"Give me one good reason why I should!"

His eyes switched color, from the sharp yellow of a predator on the hunt, to the warm gold of an intensely seductive man. The change was staggering. I felt my breath rush to keep up with the thumping of my heart. He took one step closer, eliminating the space between us, his face unnervingly close to mine.

Closing my eyes over the sensation of my stomach dropping in anticipation, I scolded myself for feeling such mixed emotions towards the man.

"You want a reason?"

I opened my eyes to meet his, knowing immediately what a mistake that was. His honey-gold gaze slid over me, slow and purposeful. I could almost feel fingertips trailing where his eyes led. The answering pang of desire was a rude awakening.

I made one last half-hearted attempt at keeping up my resentment, pushing against his chest. "Get out of my way! Let me go!"

I gasped as his fingers slid over the bodice of my dress. Even through the thick material of the corset, I could feel the heat of his touch. Skimming the tips of his fingers slowly upward, I shivered as he lingered at the base of my neck just above the swell of my breasts. His eyes met mine for a minute, searching for something and decidedly finding it, before returning their attention to where his nimble fingers caressed my warm skin. Continuing to travel upward, his palm joined his fingers, stroking the sensitive skin below my ear and along my jaw. When his hand finally reached my face, I felt the tears from before return to my eyes. I blinked them away, feeling stupid for such an unnecessary and feminine reaction.

"_Ma belle_ Alyona," he purred, his voice velvety and sure. He leaned in, allowing his breath to leave his body and enter mine in one swift motion. I began to tremble, fighting my own urges to reach out to touch him as well. I idly noted how strong our physical chemistry had become. Burying his hand in my hair, he pulled me forward so that my lips made contact with his.

His kiss was a delicious mix of dominance and tenderness, meant to say the words he could not. For now, it was enough. But I knew that there would come a time when the words would be essential. Giving into his passion, I rose to meet the desire he stirred within me head on.

I held his face between my palms and teased his mouth with my tongue. His growl of approval satisfied me. I liked knowing that this man who always seemed so in control could lose that discipline because of me.

I was the first to break away, slowly realizing that for the third time, he had tried to seduce me out of an argument. Our foreheads pressed together, I took a moment to breathe, wanting to point out his cruel tactic.

Erik leaned forward, his sinful mouth coming down to kiss the side of my neck. Just like that, my logic was gone as if it had never been. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I held him to me, overwhelmed by what he could make me feel.

"You must know I didn't mean what I said. I have many reasons to need you with me…not the least of which is what you make me feel!"

My spine tingled from the deep timbre of his voice.

"And what do you feel?"

His eyes closed, his breath soft against my bare neck. "Passion. Desire." His hot palm rested just below my waist, his fingers absently tracing the slope of my right hip. "I have almost forgotten what it feels like to be lonely. I cannot remember another time in my life when I could say that."

"I am sorry for you."

"Do not be. I should be sorry…for trying to push you away every chance I get. I am not used to feeling these things or to trusting people."

"It is ok, Erik. We can work on that. I should be more understanding…" I broke away with more reluctance than I wanted to admit. "Its just hard when you lash out…"

He looked disappointed at the space between us but smiled regardless. "You don't deserve what I force you to go through." Without realizing his own actions, he reached out to twirl a lock of my hair around his finger. The contact, however small, was sweet. "For a long time, I lost my humanity. Here, with you, I have been able to live like a normal man which has helped me more than I can express."

I too couldn't stay apart from him, reaching out to place my hand on his cheek. His golden eyes met mine, a hint of strong seduction still shimmering in their depths. "You are a normal man. I will allow no one to tell you otherwise."


	18. Hands Stained Crimson

A slight hitch in his breathing was the only warning before he leaned in and kissed me again. His lips were hot and hungry on mine, the need within him awakening a similar ache within me.

He broke away only to place a tender kiss on my neck. "Alya, you cannot protect everyone all the time," he breathed, his sinful lips against my pulse.

I shook my head. "I only protect the people I…" I stopped before I let the word "love" slip. I felt the coward for not saying it, but I could sense what a sore subject it was for Erik and I wasn't yet ready to test our bond by placing a label on what we were to one another.

"The people you…what?" For a moment I imagined I saw a pleading look in his eyes but a second later it was gone, as if it had ever been.

My fingers rose, on their own accord, to caress the deformed side of his face. I opened my mouth to respond but a large noise off to our right startled us out of our desires. Police descended upon us in a rush, too fast for us to react.

I found myself screaming at the men as they grabbed at me. Their thick hands dug into the soft flesh of my arms, hard enough to leave angry bruises. I kicked and clawed at them, anything to make them release me, but their grips were iron tight. A familiar sinking feeling made my heart nearly stop out of terror.

"No, please! I beg you-"

"Shut up, Romani whore!" The man backhanded me across the face. Hard. I could taste the blood in my mouth and closed my eyes over my tears. I would not give them the satisfaction of seeing the pain they caused.

One man stopped as he encountered the welt on the inside of my arm. "Ah, so you have been caught before! We will not be as nice as the French!"

A roar of rage boomed in the small room. A group made up of police and the men from the previous night held Erik by his arms.

"Let her go! What are you going to do to her!"

"Do not worry, Freak! We wont kill her! We are just going to leave our own brand on her!" Terror, deep and dark froze the blood in my veins. My whole body shook with it, feeling dominated and vulnerable. I wanted to sob, to cry out and curse God for allowing men to treat fellow human beings with such cruelty. I clung to the shreds of dignity and pride I still had, refusing to show weakness.

Another man pulled a knife while the other to his left cleared a table with a swipe of his arm. Objects fell to the floor, some clanking while others shattered to pieces. The officer closest me, prodded me over to the table with the iron barrel of his pistol pressing against my back. My feet crunched on the broken glass, almost sounding like footsteps on a gravel path; an odd sound amidst such cruelty. I stood in front of the old and dusty wood, staring down at it in a near panic, wondering for a moment if this was truly happening.

I didn't see who did it, but a strong shove to the back of my head, had my face pressed against the tabletop. The sound of Erik's struggles resumed with a greater desperation than before.

"Not too attached to her ears, were you?" A voice above me asked, assumedly to Erik who snarled in response. _My ears? They were going to take my ears?_ For a split second I morbidly tried to picture myself without ears. My mind rejected the image even in my imagination.

Refusing to go down without a fight, I pushed against the table, hoping to dislodge a few of the restraining hands. My head was pulled back with someone's fist in my hair and I saw a grimy face before my head spun. The ache in my cheek told me I had been hit again.

"Stop your struggling, Gyp! Or we will take more than your ears!"

Another shout followed by a snarl of rage told me that Erik had made another attempt only to be hit for the effort.

I closed my eyes in preparation, trying to listen for any indication of when the blow would come. The attempt was useless when the panicked thudding of my heart blocked all other noise.

I waited. One minute. Two. Three.

A soft cry escaped as I was suddenly jolted from my position against the table and fell to my knees on the floor in the shards of glass. Ignoring the small lacerations on my hands and knees I reached for my ears, fearing they had already been severed and in shock I had felt nothing.

Nearly weeping with joy, my fingers caressed the soft skin over the harder cartilage. I looked up in time to see the man brandishing the knife lunge at Erik. A few of the others already littered the floor around Erik, lost in the abyss of unconsciousness.

My breath stopped as I watched Erik easily disarm the man and make a swipe at him with the blade. Lost in my concern for Erik, I had stupidly left my guard down. One of the policemen grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet, pistol pointing at my temple.

"Put the weapon down, or the woman dies!"

Erik's eyes blazed into the officer's, a promise of retribution glimmering behind the irises. He tossed the blade to the floor with a metallic clatter at the man's feet.

"Ah, so the beast obeys!" He mocked, happy to rub salt in the wound of Erik's defeat. Erik's sharp yellow gaze turned to me, a silent message passing between us.

I closed my eyes in acceptance of his plan, hardening myself to the task.

Allowing my body to go limp, I fell towards the ground, face first. The man's grip on my arm stopped the collision but my weight still forced him to lower me to the ground. Before he could adjust his grip and haul me back up, I reached to where Erik had dropped the blade, grabbing the hilt firmly in my palm and rolling to my back, plunging the blade deep into the officer's gut as he reached for me again.

The man's eyes bulged in their sockets, a gurgling noise coming from his mouth as he choked on his own blood. I cried out as I pulled the blade from his flesh, the man going limp and falling on top of me.

"Get out, or you are next!" Erik's voice rumbled, before the sound of more footsteps retreated from the room. The weight of the dead man was lifted to reveal Erik's concerned face.

His hand extended towards me and I gratefully took it. An easy tug from him had me on my feet, blood staining the front of my dress crimson. I shivered from the sight but reminded myself that there had been no other option. He had made it a choice between his death or mine.

"Thank God, Alya!" Erik crushed me to him, his warm and muscular arms encircling my body. "You did what you had to," he assured me.

"I know, Erya. I just wish he hadn't forced my hand," I responded earnestly.

Erik looked back into the courtyard. "They will be back."

I nodded, my eyes still glued to my red hands, unable to look away. Flashes of a memory long since buried flickered in my mind, its vitality mercilessly renewed by the familiar sight of my hands stained that horrific color.


	19. Eye of the Storm

"Quickly, Alya!"

I ran behind him, his hand holding mine tightly. I could feel that my hand was still sticky with blood, but Erik said nothing, either not caring or choosing to ignore it. We had just reached the alleyway when Erik stopped dead in his tracks. My heart pounded, wondering at his sudden stop and fearing the reason. Peeking around him, calmed my fears.

"They must belong to the police…" I commented, spotting a small group of tethered horses.

"Come," he said, motioning towards the secured animals. "We could travel a lot faster on horseback."

I nodded; not liking the idea of stealing the horses, but realizing that theft was the least of our crimes.

Erik approached the horses slowly. I watched in awe as something about him changed in the presence of these animals. His body was relaxed and casual, without the usual power that followed him like a cloud. The animals watched him, ears perked, eyes bright.

The larger of the animals stopped his foot, tossing his head in agitation. Erik cooed softly to it, speaking in his native tongue. The sound of the language was beautiful, almost musical in quality. The beast calmed, watching him closely but without the wariness of before.

Holding up his palm in front of its large velvety nose, Erik waited. A few seconds passed before the animal positioned his snout into the curve of Erik's hand. I approached the pair and took the reins of the mare beside them in my hand. The mare looked at me for a moment, her forehead level with my own. I reached out and patted her broad head. Her ears flicked before she looked away, accepting my presence.

Erik turned to help me mount my horse but I was already half up. Looking up at me with an emotion I couldn't quite place, he fussed with the buckles on the saddle, tugging a little on one.

Our Dons raced through the streets, buildings streaking by too fast to identify. A wild abandon raced through my veins, rejoicing in the freedom of being one with such a magnificent animal. Forgetting the imminent danger, carefree laughter bubbled up within me. The exhilaration was rejuvenating.

I could feel Erik riding a single stride behind, his strong stallion flanking my smaller but faster mare.

Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled. Seconds later, the sky was illuminated by a streak of lightening. Nature continued to show her power all around us as we rode. We reached the outskirts of the town quicker than I expected. Recognizing the area, I redirected our horses towards Brno.

We rode for a while in silence. I tried not to think about the sensation of the man's life slipping away as his blood cascaded over my hands, but the dampness of my dress from where I knew the stains remained served as a constant reminder.

I could feel Erik's piercing gold gaze as he continued to keep a close eye on me. I did my best to ignore him but the task proved difficult, the weight of his eyes warm against my back. Suddenly, the skies broke open, releasing a light rain upon us. We continued for a while longer until the ground was too unsteady with mud.

"Alyona! We need to stop! It will be dark soon and the conditions are worsening!"

"We can make it a bit further," I said, more out of hope than truth. Being on the large sleek animal's back allowed me to feel free, as if I could outrun anything. My feet did not wish to return to solid undeniable ground.

"Think of the animals, Alya! They need rest and there are more dangers once it's dark!"

Having found my weakness, I slowed the horse to a walk, eventually stopping him near a grove of trees.

Erik dismounted first, tying the reins on a low branch before walking over and offering me his hands. I hesitated before taking them, sliding off the horse as he caught me, easing me to the ground.

The intensity of the storm grew until the water cascaded down upon us, drenching us both. My clothes clung to my body, forcing me to overlook my modesty. _At least the blood was washing off with the force of the rain_.

I stood in a clearing, allowing the blood to flow off me, the storm cleansing my body but not my soul.

"Alya. Come out of the rain!" I looked to him, wondering why he didn't understand my need to feel the cool downpour against my skin. He had demons chasing him as well.

My eyes met his and I knew. He understood but he also knew how much of a burden it was to go it alone. His arms opened to me, a gesture I was beginning to find endearing. I walked to him, oddly conscious of how the fabric of my dress clung to my damp body.

Underneath the tall pines, Erik had used dead branches and the blankets off the horses to make a tent for us to rest under. His ingenuity continued to amaze me. I went to him, ducking under the canopy and settling in by his side. The space was too small for us to sit apart but I had to admit I didn't mind.

The warm, masculine scent of him was like a drug, numbing my senses, nearly allowing me to forget the horrors of the past day and the betrayals of the past. In moments like these, Erik was a rock; solid, reliable, unmoving. I had ignored my feminine desires for such a companion for too long.

The rain trickled down around us, consistent in its onslaught. The sky grumbled its protest, a signal for all to hunker down and await the storm's end.

"Alya…are you certain you are alright? Do you wish to talk about it?" He sounded so concerned that tears threatened to fall. _I will not be weak, _I vowed. However, his honest concern seemed to hit a cord, stirring my emotions like water in a whirlpool.

I shook my head, throat too thick with unshed tears to speak. "Just hold me," I managed to whisper. His arms tighted around me, pulling me close enough that he could rest his chin on my shoulder, his light breath tickling the sensitive skin of my neck.

A few feet from us, under a similarly made canopy, the stallion whinnied.

"These animals make me miss my Cesar…" Erik supplied softly, offering a rare glimpse into his past. I took the bait, recognizing it as a distraction tactic, but finding the attempt sweet.

"You had a horse? Where is he now?"

He shrugged. "Still in France I suppose. Hopefully well cared for."

"Do you think you will get him back?"

"No. I would like to think that, but no."

"Why was he so special?"

"No reason really. We spent a lot of time together. I enjoy the company of animals more than people…" he paused before adding, "animals don't judge…"

I nodded, "Has your life always been that terrible, Erya?" I couldn't hide the sorrow from my voice, imagining what it would be like to live such a lonely existence.

He squeezed me a little tighter. "Not always…"

The conversation lulled as we both dozed, the storm raging around us.


	20. Nightmare

The cold of the metal chilled my bones; the clanking a death's song. I shuffled along behind the others, the tracks of my tears still wet upon my cheeks.

_This is my doing! Oh God, why did it have to end this way?_

Silence was the only answer. God did not hear my prayers and for that I was sorry. Perhaps I didn't pray to him enough, or perhaps someone else was more in need. Either way, I felt scorned and abandoned as the coldhearted men shoved us along.

Behind me I could hear the other women crying, begging for their lives to be spared. If the men understood Russian, they didn't show any emotion. They were as detached and silent as stone statues in a church.

We walked for what seemed like an eternity, uncertain of our future, or even if there was to be one.

As we approached a large stone building, some of the older women crossed themselves, a sign of what they assumed awaited us behind the large wooden doors.

Once inside, we waited in a long line, the beginning of which disappeared behind another looming door. I felt my limbs begin to shake with fear. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying desperately to be strong. Uniformed men stood sentry, nudging us along. Piercing screams filled the room, silencing the cries from those around me. We all listened in horror as one by one cries echoed through the halls.

Without warning, I was shoved forward, nearly tripping face forward over the shackles on my feet. Men were yelling at us to 'hurry up,' or to 'stop our crying,' oblivious to the fact that few of us actually understood their language. Having spent most of the summer in France, their words were still fresh in my mind. I wasn't sure if it was worse to know or not know.

"Hold her down!" A large man brandishing an iron rod commanded. I struggled as two men came to grab me by the arms but my efforts were useless. The one holding my right arm pulled the sleeve of my dress, ripping it with a harsh tug. My heart picked up speed at the action.

I watched as the man in command placed the iron rod into the fire behind him, watching as the metal heated to scorching temperature. As if in a fog, I realized his intent as he walked towards me. The man holding my arm turned it over, exposing the soft underside. I struggled with all my might, snarling aloud as I tried relentlessly to break free. My attempts were useless.

"Let's hear this wretch scream!" The man said, staring down at me as if I wasn't even human. To him, I was of little more concern than insect. His sharp green eyes stared at me, as if in inspection.

I steeled my will, turning my gaze to ice as I stared directly into his.

The blistering metal touched my skin, the scent of burning flesh enough to turn even the strongest stomach. The searing pain clouded my brain, nearly causing me to faint. I couldn't help the tears that welled up in my eyes, but my jaw remained locked in place. I would be damned if I'd give them the satisfaction of screaming.

Realizing the battle of wills, the man held the metal against me longer than necessary. I bit the inside of my cheek in my attempt to remain silent. The taste of blood made the scent of my blackened skin more sickening.

Finally he released me and I fell back against my captors, fighting the urge to vomit from pain.

"Quite the spirit for a witch!" He sneered, running a hand through his dark slicked back hair. He turned to a man beside him. "Think she is the one?"

The other man looked me over, his gaze disgusting yet impersonal. He stepped towards me, grabbing a fistful of my hair in his hand. He tugged once. Hard. I said nothing. Allowing the strands to slip through his fingers slowly, he finally nodded.

"Bring her to my room."

I wondered for a moment if I hadn't heard him correctly. Before I could do or say anything, I was hauled off.

My own horror was echoed as more screams sounded behind me as I was dragged from the room.

In the next room, I was forced into a chair where another uniformed man shaved my head. The golden locks of my hair fell to the ground with no care or concern. I was ashamed at my own vanity when I felt tears cascaded down my face. There was something more insulting about losing my hair than about being branded like cattle.

By the time they were done, I was too tired to fight. They carried me past countless others from my gypsy family to the second level, where I was locked in another high ceilinged room. There were desks and other office-like supplies in this one but I couldn't be bothered to care.

Minutes ticked by. Hours maybe. I didn't know. All I knew was that the tears had dried by the time anyone came for me.

The man from before waltzed in and sat in the large chair behind the desk. He shuffled through some papers, ignoring me as if I wasn't even there.

Finally he looked up. "What is your name _tzigane_?"

I spit in his face, feeling a bit of the fire return to me, even if part of me felt trampled and violated.

The fury in his eyes was the only warning before the back of his hand came into contact with my face. I fell to the floor, my head spinning from the blow. A strong hand grabbed me by the wrist, hauling me to my feet only to be stuck again.

"You will answer me, and you will do so with respect," he bellowed in my ear.

I held my mouth firmly shut.

He grabbed a finger and wrenched it backwards.

I screamed out in pain. "Alyona! My name's Alyona!"

"There that wasn't so hard!" He released me. I fell to the floor, cradling my hand in agony. A man I hadn't noticed stepped away from the wall, beside the door. He didn't look at me. The officer commanded, "Bring him to my office." The younger man nodded once before leaving.

The officer shuffled through more papers, having dismissed me for the time being. I breathed through my mouth to try and control the pain as I took my finger in my opposite hand. I felt the bone beneath the flesh, feeling for a break. Luckily, there was none but the finger was at an odd angle, dislocated. Taking one deep breath, I yanked the finger back into place, screaming into the silent room.

Looking over his papers, the man shook his head. "What a waste." I didn't care enough to ask what he meant, even if I thought he'd answer.

I jumped as the door flung open, the young officer entering again, another man in tow. My breath stopped.

"Alexei," I breathed, unable to believe he was here.

He walked to me, taking me in his arms. I clung to him, feeling safe for the first time since being separated from my father.

"Here she is. As promised."

He looked me over, a dark frown marring his handsome face. "She was to be unharmed," he growled.

I looked to the officer in horror, realization starting to form.

"She resisted."

"Her hair? The brand?"

"We didn't know if she was the one. Besides, we will not have an unmarked _tzigane_ roaming the streets!" He got up, walking to the door. "I shall leave you to your prize."

I stepped back from Alexei, staring at him in revulsion. "Alexei, you didn't," I breathed in our native tongue. His attention returned to me, his gaze softening.

"Alya. They gave me a good sum. I couldn't refuse. Now I have money, we can start a life together somewhere!"

I took another step back, "No. I will go nowhere with you!"

He came at me, a wild look in his eyes. "Alyona, I have wanted you for so long!" I stumbled back, running into the wall. Adrenaline rushed trough my veins, my heart pumping out the rhythm. "You sold out our family, Alexei! For money?"

"They weren't my family! All I've ever wanted was you."

His body pressed mine into the hard stonewall, a sickening lump forming in my gut. I thought I was going to be sick.

"I will have you Alya!" He grabbed my face in his large hand, turning my head against the wall. I fought with all my might, trying to get him off me.

The sound of cloth tearing petrified me to motionlessness. His fingers moved over my skin but it stirred no emotion within me. _My God! What is he doing? Why is he doing this?_

"Alexei, please," I tried.

He didn't hear me, or if he did, he paid no mind. Removing a knife from his belt, he cut into the boned fabric of my corset. The tip of the blade pressed against my skin for only a moment but enough to startle me. I shoved at Alexei's chest, putting my fear and outrage behind the attempt.

"You bitch!" Alexei's hand came away from his neck, a long cut oozing red blood just beneath his fingers. My head spun as his fist hit my jaw. I felt his knuckles glance off, enough to assure me that my jaw probably wasn't broken. His body took mine to the floor as he resumed tearing at my clothes. _This wasn't the man I knew_, I cried inside.

I reached out, trying to crawl away or to turn on my stomach; anything to make me not feel so vulnerable. My fumbling hand found the hilt of his discarded blade. My fingers wrapped around it, the security of its weight a welcome relief.

"Alexei, I thought you loved me," I cried, giving him one last chance to stop his attack.

"I wanted you Alya. But you are naive! A woman's place is beneath a man's, as you will be beneath me!"

With all my might, I pulled back my arm to plunge the blade into the base of his neck. He gasped, a trail of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, before rolling onto his back. Dead.

I sat in silence, staring at the dead body of the man I thought I loved. My heart broke, shattering to pieces as I stared into his unseeing eyes.

The sound of the door opening barely registered in my mind.

"Monsieur, what do we do?"

"No one will miss a gypsy! Bring her down with the others."

"But she is a murderer! She should be sent to the guillotine."

"No need to waste funds on her. The executioner makes more than us as it is."

"But sir-"

"Do as I say!"

Alexei's dead eyes stared at me as I was hauled from the room.


	21. Marked

"Alya! Alyona!"

My eyes snapped open to see Erik looking down at me. Confused, I took a moment to look around. The storm had stopped and at some point during the night, I had curled up on my side, resting my head in Erik's lap.

"My god Alya, what happened?"

"What are you talking about," I mumbled, still trying to clear the fog of sleep from my mind.

"You were screaming and whimpering in your sleep!"

"Was I," I asked, biting my lip.

He nodded, his intense gold eyes inspecting me. I felt like he could see straight through me and know exactly what it was that haunted me.

I sat up, wrapping my arms around myself, hoping he would think I was only cold. When his arms wrapped around my own, I nearly gasped with the flutter of my heart.

"What was it, Alya? Tell me. You are not alone in this."

His words forced me to meet his eyes. "A gypsy is always alone," I added, not sure why I was still trying to keep him at a distance, when all I really wanted was to snuggle into his arms and wish the world away.

His body stiffened but he didn't let me go. Secretly, I was pleased. "You can push me away all you like, Alya, but I am not going anywhere." He put pressure on my shoulder, turning me to face him. His fingers rose to stroke my cheek tenderly, the action more intimate than I expected. "_Ma chère_…we have tried to stay away from each other and yet, here we are. Together. It is time to stop fighting."

"I don't know how to rely on someone. The only people I've ever been able to count on are my father and mother," I admitted shamefully.

He hugged me tightly. "I understand, but we need to stop trying to protect ourselves from each other."

I thought about it for a moment, attempting to discern whether I was capable of that. "I know. I will try." He nodded, placing a kiss on the top of my head before standing.

"As much as I'd like to stay hidden away with you in my arms, we had best move on."  
He began taking down his makeshift tend, placing the branches off in the woods as I re-saddled the horses, blankets back in place. Looking down, I noticed that my dress was again dry, the crimson stain now a tint of brown. I shivered at the memory, but continued with the work.

I looked up from the horse in front of me, searching the forest around for Erik. My eyes caught sight of something fast approaching on the dirt road. I squinted, unable to make out what it was. Seconds ticked by until I understood what I saw.

"Erik!" I tried to not sound frantic, but the attempt was futile. They were coming after me again. My dream came rushing back, reminding me of the last time I was in police custody.

"Alya?" He came running towards me, pulling a dagger from somewhere on his person. He looked dangerous in that moment, a set line to his jaw, eyes hardened. The deformed half of his face looked monstrous when combined with the force of his presence. Without thought I stepped back, intimidated by his demeanor. He looked over me, the harsh yellow of his eyes softening to gold again.

I pointed to the approaching men on horseback.

"My god! The horses must be marked!" Erik lifted one of the horse's feet, inspecting the horseshoe. I leapt onto the back of the stallion, my heart thudding. "Hurry, Alya! Towards the creek! The water will confuse the trail!"

"What about you?"

"I will catch up! Just go!" I turned the horse, for once intending to do as I was told, but I couldn't bring myself to urge the animal forward.

"Not without you!"

"Alyona! Do as you're told. Go!" He snarled, mounting the other horse with astonishing agility. Without looking back, he took off in the opposite direction, in plain view of the approaching officers. My fear doubled at the sight, worrying that I had lost him to the police. Every bone in my body ached to follow him, but I knew that if I did and we were both caught, his sacrifice would have been for nothing. Sadly, I urged my horse in the direction of the creek.

I dug my heels into his side, trying to encourage speed out of the spirited animal but he seemed equally as reluctant to leave his companion. We made it to the creek without incident and I slowed him to a canter, keeping in the water so our tracks wouldn't be found.

Minutes seemed like days as we continued on. At first, I looked over my shoulder constantly, hoping to see a dark man approaching on a chestnut horse. Nothing. After what must have been at least a few hours, I stopped looking over my shoulder and slowed the horse down to a walk.

The creek began to get deeper, opening to what must be a small pond or lake not far ahead. I lead my stallion out of the water and hid him amongst a grouping of thick trees. My heart heavy, I unbuckled the saddle from the horse, stroking him soothingly as I removed the heavy leather.

"Easy boy. Do you have a name?" The horse tossed his head, ears perked towards me. "What did Erik call you when he spoke to you," I asked, clearly not expecting an answer. "Probably something in French…he calls me _ma chère_, a name I am quite attached to although I honestly don't know what it means…" I smiled, thinking of the sound of that name rolling of his tongue. "I sure hope he's ok," I worried, half to the horse and half to myself.

Using the horse's blanket, I laid it out atop a pile of fallen pine needles, making a comfortable place to rest.

Looking around, I found a good size stick and taking my knife from the hilt on my thigh, I began sharpening an end. It took mere minutes to make a useful if not primitive-looking spear. Taking the weapon down the creek, I found the pond and circled the perimeter, looking for fish. I removed my boots and left them beside the shore, wading out in the mud in bare feet.

Partway in, I came across a fallen log and I leapt onto it, balancing to look deep into the water. Just below, half hiding beneath the old wood swam a school of fish. Watching them with concentration, I tracked the movements of the biggest one with the end of my spear. When it was closest to me, I struck hard and fast. Pulling the spear back out of the water revealed my prize harpooned on the end.

I was pleased with my skill but it also left a bitter taste in my mouth. My father had taught me to fish like that when I was a very young girl. I missed him. Tossing the fish off to the side near my boots, I tried for another. I missed the next few times but eventually my persistence paid off. Having finished catching my dinner, I took a few minutes to scour the water's edge, needing to find a piece of flint to start my fire. A half an hour later had me returning to the horse with four large fish and a chunk of dark waxy looking rock.

As I approached the stallion lifted his great head, munching on a pinecone. I made a face at his choice of meal but he merely glanced at me for a moment before returning to his own dinner.

I took a moment to gather kindling to start a fire, before sitting down on my blanket, arranging the twigs a decent distance away. It took more time than I would have liked to start the fire, finding it particularly difficult to strike the flint against the blade of my knife just right. Once again, my stubborn nature won out and I soon had a decent cooking fire. Taking a moment to rest, I cleaned the fish, tossing the fatty skins deep into the flames and watching how quickly the blaze grew.

By the time I had the meat cooking over the fire, I was no longer hungry, growing sick with worry. _My god, could they have caught him? What will I do? I cannot leave him! What if they have killed him?_ I buried my face in my hands, angry with myself for leaving him and wondering at the hole I felt in my heart at his absence. I refused to shed tears without knowing for sure what had happened to him but I found tears threatening regardless.

The only warning I had was the pull of the blanket beneath me. Recognizing the sensation, I turned and leapt to my feet, bringing the blade in my hand up to the level of my eyes. The motion was more reaction that thought as I plunged the blade towards the intruder. I strong hand caught my wrist as the panic in my mind calmed, a pair of honeyed eyes staring into mine.

The blade slipped from my hand, falling to the ground as breath returned to my body. I felt weak as I stared, mouth gaping open up at a familiar deformed face.

"Erya," I breathed.

He released my wrist, sliding his fingers up my arm. I threw myself into his arms, wrapping my own around his neck to hold him tightly.

He squeezed me back, burying his face in the crook of my neck for a minute. When he pulled back, I felt outrage bubble up within me. Reaching out, I smacked him on the arm. He managed to look confused and indignant simultaneously.

"What was that for?"

"For commanding me to leave and then taking so long to catch up!" He stared at me. "Do you have any idea how worried I was," I fumed at him as he continued to watch me, as if I was amusing. I smacked him in the chest for good measure. I turned to finish preparing my meal, suddenly famished, but was pulled back into his arms.

Erik's strong chest pressed comfortingly against my back, his arms wrapped loosely around my waist. His lips caressed my neck, nearly making me forget about the food.

"I am terribly sorry for worrying you, _ma chère_," he purred in my ear.

"And for ordering me around," I asked, only half caring about his answer.

"Well, since we are being honest with each other, I'm not terribly sorry about that…I rather like giving you orders," he chuckled, releasing me.

I glared at him. "Now if only you could make me obey them!"

His eyes sizzled on my skin. "If only." I shivered, an involuntary reaction to the timbre of his voice.


	22. Outrunning Demons: Part I

"Where on Earth are we?" Alya's voice was hesitant, but not frightened.

A half a day's ride had brought us into the bustling city of Brno. Upon reaching the main streets, fate smiled upon us as the storm we had been racing caught up with us again. As the rain descended upon the city, people raced for cover, ignoring Alya and I entirely. We pressed on for a bit longer until I had to admit that we too needed to seek out shelter.

I studied the building as we approached it, noting the pillars on either side of the entrance, the intricate edging on the red roof and the tall gilded glass windows on the level above. It was of a simple architectural style, but there was no doubt in my mind what it was. A sinking feeling nearly consumed my logic even as a part of me marveled at its magnificence.

"It's an opera house," I finally supplied. The rain was now pouring on us and it was getting dark. There was no way around it; we needed to go in. "Come. We need to get out of the rain and I imagine your family will be hunkered down for the evening anyway. We can find them in the morning."

"But Erik, the place looks closed, and even if it weren't, they wouldn't let us in."

I looked back at her, seeing her shivering from the chill of the rain. Her beautiful golden locks were drenched and plastered to her head, reminder enough of why I needed to face at least one of my demons. "I do not intend on asking permission, _ma chère_!"

Walking to the building, my eyes searched its structure until I found what looked like a servant's entry off to the side, the door once again practically blending into the stonewalls. Trying the handle confirmed that it was locked and from the force it took to turn the handle, the place had been closed for some time now. Reaching into my cloak, I retrieved my knife and slid it in between the door and the frame. After a few minutes of prying, the door popped open.

"Erya, please…if we are caught."

"It looks abandoned Alya. We have no choice. You have been on the road for days now. You need to be warm and dry for a night!"

"Erik, stop worrying, I'll be fine." Her body shook as she spoke and I glared at her, irritated at her lack of concern for her own health. I opened my mouth to reprimand her but she cut me off. "Don't even waste your breath. You ignore your own needs more than I!"

My jaw clenched over the truth of her words. _You ignore more needs than the ones she speaks of,_ a dark voice I had thought gone spoke from the depths of my soul. The sound of that growling voice gave me pause, wondering if perhaps it was not a good idea to put myself back into the Phantom's domain.

Squaring my shoulders against the trepidation, I strode inside.

There was an odd calm that came over me as I entered the building. The echo of my footsteps in the high ceilinged halls was comforting and familiar.

Another pair of feet sounded not far behind. Alya, hesitant to trespass followed me in silence.

I inspected the architecture, the style, everything, wanting to know as much as I could. At the top of the first flight of stairs, I found a large door undoubtedly leading to the boxes and public seats. Wanting to avoid such a place, I turned to continue upward. I froze at the sight of charred wood, a railing that had once been white now black with ash. _My God. A fire? Where was I?_

Fleeing my memory, I turned back to the doorway. 'Reduta Theatre' was engraved into the wall beside the large double doors. Momentarily forgetting all else, I placed my hands against the smooth wood and pushed. One loud creak and I was standing amongst row after row of red velvet seats. The walls were decorated with intricate designs in gold. Looking around, I discovered that everything was gold: the curtains, pillars and even the second floor balcony. I stared, being unable to do anything else. When I looked to the front of the hall, my mind froze at the sight. Two large chandeliers twinkled, a gold cast to them as well.

Flashes of my past came flooding back. The sight of another chandelier crashing down on the stage, an angry orange blaze engulfing the theatre I held dear, people screaming in fear; fear of me and fear of my horrific face. It was entirely my fault! I felt my breathing pick up its pace but the cause was lost to me. I considered approaching the silver pipes on the wall, knowing an organ would be close below but couldn't bring myself to take that step. My past was fast on my heels and it terrified me.

_Christine_. The feel of her lips, her hands, gentle and unsure came rushing back; her angelic voice, torturous in its purity, as alluring as it was forbidden. The scent of rose petals clung to her long chocolate brown curls, tumbling down around her shoulders, skin bared to my gaze.

"Erik," her voice called to me, sweet but dripping with betrayal. She loved the boy! _How could she have betrayed me so? The traitorous wretch! _She couldn't look at me; couldn't bare the idea of waking up beside me. _But it wasn't my fault! I didn't ask for this life, this face! _Again her deceitful voice called to me, "Erik!"

I turned, away from her voice towards the wall, unknowingly setting myself up for an even greater surprise. I stopped dead at the sight of my horrific face, staring back at me from a large mirror there with eyes black as night, a murderous, seething anger masked by cold indifference. The right side of my face was red and blistering, bone visible in places where skin refused to grow. I turned my head slightly, the reflection mimicking my movements, throwing the normal half into shadow. My throat constricted at the sight of my unmasked side, little more tolerable than a decomposing corpse. Over my shoulder, a pair of pale blue eyes watched me. I jumped from the sudden apparition, unsure if she was real or not. _Had I simply dreamed living with gypsies? Was Alya a figment of my imagination?_

I held my breath as I turned, holding out a hand to the woman before me. She was so very beautiful, breathtaking even. She was a dream, an apparition, I was sure of it. A woman this amazing would never be with me.

The firm but very real pressure of her hand in mine took the strength right out of me. I fell to my knees at her feet, breathing rapidly in an attempt to hold back my sobs. A soft thud announced that she had lowered herself to the ground in front of me. I raised my eyes hesitantly to hers.

"_Fransuzka_," she murmured softly. "Are you ok?"

"Alya?" I had to be sure; she could still be part of a cruel dream. "Tell me something I don't know! Tell me something about the day you found me!"

She stared at me, indecision evident in her eyes.

"Please, Alya. I need to know you are real and that you aren't the creation of a forsaken and lonely crazed man."

A furrow appeared on her brow, as she looked me over. "The day I found you, I acted rashly. I knew nothing about you and naturally, your face scared me. But I was also disgusted by my reaction to seeing you for the first time. I though I would be cruel to judge you and even crueler to leave you to fend for yourself simply because of my fear. So I took you, carried you back to my father on my own."

I opened my mouth to speak. No words came out. I tried again; still nothing.

Her hand rested on the back of mine. "Please, Erya. Can we go find a nice cozy place and get warm?"

Noticing how violent her shivers had become, I leapt to my feet, wrapping my arm around her and leading her from the room.


	23. Outrunning Demons: Part II

I opened the door slowly, being careful not to push fast enough that the hinges might squeak. It looked abandoned as far as I could tell, but I wanted to be safe. Behind the door was just what I had been looking for. I pushed it open even further, taking a moment to appreciate the work of art before me. A large crystal chandelier sat proudly in the middle of the room, having been lifted to the room directly above the theatre for storage or repair. Around the chandelier, lesser props had been arranged with no real care. Storage then.

Looking behind me, I caught sight of Alya shuffling forward, arm outstretched, clearly blind in the darkness. I reached out my hand to take hers. She jumped at the contact but quickly wrapped her fingers around mine. I shivered at their icy cold temperature, but the shaking continued. A moment longer and I concluded that the shaking was coming from Alya.

"_Ma chère_, are you alright?" My voice echoed for a few moments afterward, the sound bouncing off the crystals. She nodded but through the quiet of the room, I could still hear her teeth chattering. "Liar," I admonished softly. "We will stay here for the night. We should be able to find your family in the morning."

"Alright." Her voice shook. Releasing her hand, I took out my matchbook from my cloak and lit a few of the candles in the lights around the room. A soft yellow glow illuminated the room enough for Alya to see, but not enough to draw unwanted attention. Alya's eyes brightened as the candlelight shimmered off the glass crystals in the chandelier.

"It's beautiful!" I stared for a few moments as she caressed one of the ornaments, watching as it swayed gently.

Finding a discarded blanket, I placed it in the corner of the room and motioned to Alya. "Come here, _chouchoute,_" I called softly. She came, as I bid. "Sit by me."

"I'll get you wet!"

I smiled at her thoughtfulness. "You are going to get ill if you don't get warm soon. I would rather not have you die of pneumonia. I am already wet, _ma chère_, I do not mind."

She sat beside me, a good foot separating her body from mine. I took one of the blankets and wrapped it around my shoulders, pulling her beneath my arm and encasing both our bodies in the thick fabric.

We sat in silence for a few moments. Her body shook quite strongly at first but the shivers soon subsided to the occasional tremor. I savored the moment, the heat of our bodies combining beneath the thick material around us. The scent of her teased my senses, making me feel weak with wanting her.

Unable to avoid a small nagging thought in the back of my head, I was loathe to break our amiable silence."Alya, I…wish to ask you something…" I started, unsure of how to breach the topic I wished to discuss.

She looked up at me, a hesitant trust in her eyes. I wondered if my question would erase that confidence. Beneath the blanket, her hands found mine, sandwiching my right between the both of hers. "Alright…?"

"How are you so calm?"

"Calm?"

"Most women would be in hysterics…you killed a man little more than a day ago…" I pried gently, although not without suspicion.

I was shocked but nevertheless relieved when she didn't lash out. She nodded, staring off sightlessly. Only the look in her eyes told me that she stared to avoid my gaze, not out of trauma.

Wanting to make her look at me, I finally dared to voice what I already knew. "You have killed before."

She rounded on me, faster than I could have imagined. Her eyes blazed into mine, her hand coming up to clutch my chin firmly, forcing me to look directly at her. "And who will prove it? You?" Her usually soft kind voice hissed in my face. I shook my head, wondering what on earth was happening.

Her hidden blade was pressed to my throat, halting any and all movement.

"Alya, please…" I implored. Her ferocity never waned, staring me down like a predator does its prey. "I would never-"

"No. You wouldn't. I would gut you before you could." For the first time, one of her threats chilled my blood. This time, I knew she meant exactly what she claimed.

"Tell me about it," I entreated, not out of fear but compassion. I hated seeing her like this. She seemed so cold, so callous; so unlike her.

"About what?" Her grip on my chin tightened. I felt my skin begin to bruise where her small fingers gripped me. I ignored the discomfort.

"About the other one…"

"I haven't admitted anything to you! Nor will I! Never again will anyone have the opportunity to take advantage of me! I will not load the gun so that you may fire at will!"

"Alyona! What in God's name are you talking about?" I snarled back, unable to keep my anger entirely in check.

"You will only betray me! Just like before!" Her gaze was bitter, still half lost in memory.

"Before?" She didn't respond, deaf to the entire world. Luckily, her grip loosened just a bit. "Alyona! What do you mean, before?"

Attention snapping back to me, the blaze was back in her eyes. The blade tightened at my throat. "I should never have trusted you Alexei! I loved you! I loved you, and you betrayed me," she shouted in my face.

Feeling my own temper rise up to meet hers, I grabbed her brutally by the wrist. She cried out at the power behind my grip, as I growled my own frustration. Using my weight to force her onto her back, I held her down, her wrists pinned beside her head, the blade secure and away from my neck. "Damn it, Alyona! I am not Alexei! Snap out of it!"

"Get off of me! I will kill you! Get off!" Screaming now, she kicked and cursed, determinedly trying to remove me from my position over her.

"Alya!" I growled, doing my best to stop her struggles.

She choked on a scream, her voice breaking as tears filled her voice. "Please, no. Not again. Please…" I stilled, hearing the desperation in her that could only have meant one thing.

"My God! Alya." I removed myself from her, pulling her up and into my arms, holding her to me as she cried softly. In that moment, she seemed so small and so very feminine. I had forgotten that my strong Romani was still a young woman in a pitiless man's world. My mind was boggled, not having even considered what the French police might have done or, as I hoped, only tried to do while she was in their custody. I rocked her softly, hoping she could feel how much I desired to love and protect her if she would let me.

Her breathing was ragged as she tried to stifle her sobs, still trying to be strong regardless of all she had endured. Without warning, a rush of compassion overwhelmed me, showing me how perfectly alike we were in our faults. I kissed her forehead, realizing something for the first time. I loved her; for her acceptance of me, her strength of character and even for her stubborn pride, the pride that was still fighting to distance me. I clung to her tighter, too afraid to voice my love, but wanting her to feel my protection.

"Alyona! Listen," I commanded. She didn't respond, her face still buried against my chest. I pulled her back from me and raised her chin to look at me. "Listen to me, Alyona! I will not let anything happen to you! Not now, not ever! I will not betray you! You mean far too much to me!"

Her eyes filled anew with tears, arms moving to wrap around me hesitantly.

"Do you believe me?"

She nodded, her damp locks bouncing with the motion. I closed my eyes and prayed, "God help us!"

I pulled her in to kiss her stunned lips yet again. However this time, one fact changed everything. Neither of us were lying to ourselves.


	24. Confession

I awoke the next morning to a warm body curled up against me. As accustomed as I was becoming to having her beside me, it was still an odd sensation to wake knowing I wasn't alone. Her head rested in the crook of my arm, one of her hands lying loosely on my chest.

It was likely still early and although I didn't know how much time we could spend without falling too far behind the rest of her gypsy band, I decided to allow her to sleep a bit longer. The past two days had been stressful on us both.

I couldn't stop myself from watching her as she slept, her face relaxed, one arm curled beneath her neck. I felt the monster, for leering at her when she was so vulnerable but to my own astonishment, my thoughts did not take a dark turn. I felt lust, certainly, but a warm sense of affection caused it to morph into desire.

_What on earth am I to do_, I asked myself. My feelings for this woman were becoming strong, dangerously strong. The last time I had felt anything this intense; I burnt down an Opera House. I cringed at the memory, realizing that as wonderful as my time with Alya had been, I was still running away from a past that would inevitably catch up to me. _Perhaps it wont, I am after all, halfway across the continent._ My self-assurance was a blatant lie, meant to cover the problem for the time being. _What will happen when Alya learns of my past? Will she still care for me?_

I wanted to believe that she would. My entire soul cried out for me to proclaim that she would. I couldn't make that promise to myself. There was far too much to lose.

Over the past few days, Alya and I had been given glimpses of each other's pasts. I knew she was not an ignorant woman and I imagined she had been able to discern a few things about me, but was it enough to label me as the Phantom from the Paris Opera House? I wasn't sure. There seemed to be a silent pact between us that we simply didn't ask those questions. The only problem with that arrangement was that it wasn't working. I wanted to know about what haunted her. I wanted to be able to soothe her, to tell her that it was all right and that there was nothing to fear. I couldn't very well do that without knowing about her demons.

Looking back to her, I watched as her chest rose and fell with each breath. She was so very comfortable in my presence. I was amazed that her fears excluded me and my horrific face. I had tried so very hard to keep her at a distance but before I knew what had happened, she had burrowed beneath my skin. I was almost loath to return her to her family, feeling that despite our squabbles we had become closer in our solitude.

In her sleep she stirred, rubbing her body against mine like a contented cat. I froze, suddenly exceedingly aware of every inch of my body as well as hers. _Dear God Alya. For both our sakes, do hold still! I am no saint!_

She mumbled something unintelligible before her eyes fluttered open. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her eyes opening to look into mine. At the sight of my face she didn't flinch, as if waking up beside me was the most natural thing in the world.

"Good morning" I ventured to say, once I was fairly certain my voice wouldn't betray my desire.

"Good morning." Her voice was languid with sleep. I nearly groaned when my body tightened in response.

I stared, entranced, as her eyes fluttered shut, eyelashes dark and full against her soft skin. She rubbed her face against my shoulder, as if she just wanted to burrow back against me and allow sleep to overtake her.

I cleared my throat. "Alya, it is time to wake up _ma puce_."

"Must I? I am quite comfortable here." My heart constricted at her words.

"As am I. But your father will be worried…" I tried, certain that if I didn't convince her it was time to leave, it would be solely up to me and we would be going nowhere very quickly.

Propping herself up on an elbow she studied me, the fog of sleep having cleared from her eyes. "Erik? Do you think of me differently now, after last night?" My gaze was drawn helplessly to her mouth as she bit her lip.

Startled by her hesitant words, I pulled my mind away from its indecent path and focused on her. "What?"

"I don't know what happened. I would never want to hurt you, I just…for a moment, I wasn't certain where I was or who you were…" Her voice was small and unsure, a pitiful sound. I sat up, waiting for her to meet my gaze. Her eyes remained glued to the floor, as if she were frightened I would abandon her. My heart broke at the sight.

"Of course I don't. Alya, I of all people should not judge another…"

"Why do you say that?"

"You've seen my temper…In my past, I've done things…things I will most certainly burn in hell for…and some of those actions, I don't regret. I cannot judge another's past."

"Erik, whatever you've done, it cannot be as bad as all that."

I looked at Alya, studying the way she looked at me. It was almost as if she thought I was a normal man, with a normal past. Clearly she had long forgotten the times my temper had reared its ugly head when we first had met. It scared me to think how comfortable she was with my touch. The touch from the same hands that had strangled life out of others.

"All that and more…" I managed.

"Then you are not the same man…"

"Perhaps not. But I wish you would ere on the side of caution…It was not long ago that I was that man and whether you believe it or not, he lingers."

"Erya…"

"Come Alya. We best be going. We need to catch your family before they leave…"

In silence, she followed.

* * *

Alya lead the way, directing our horses to a small wooded area just beyond the outskirts of town. A part of me was sad to see the beautiful town fading into the distance behind us. Not to say I missed having to calculate my life around the stares of people but there was something familiar about existing in a big city, ruling its shadows.

I heard Alya's swift exhale as carts and tents came into view before us. We could see people packing up their belongings, clearly preparing to leave. I felt my heart lighten, glad that I hadn't delayed us any longer. As the sound of our horses's hooves on the ground grew loud enough for them to hear, many heads shot up to look at us. Some of them began to group together, clearly labeling us as trouble.

"I don't think they can tell it is us yet…" I murmured.  
"They'll soon forget their worry!" She laughed, urging the mare to go faster.

We reached the group in a matter of minutes.

"Alya! It's Alya," a voice called out. The words were soon a chant echoing throughout the camp.

As we pulled our mounts to a stop, hands snaked out from all around us. Some grabbing for the horses, others offering a hand to help us down. I suddenly felt very uncomfortable with all the attention. Alya didn't seem to notice as she was pulled into the embraces of her Romani family.

Then, silence permeated the group like a dense fog. The surrounding energy explained to my body quicker than words could have. Alya, tears in her eyes walked towards her father, standing in silent elation mere feet from his daughter. They melted into each other, the only true scar from the time they had spent separated.

After a few intense moments and not a word uttered, he kept one arm around her slight shoulders and moved towards me.

I felt the intensity of his gaze on me immediately but I refused to bow underneath the pressure, straightening my shoulders and lifting my chin.

He looked me over once, without a care for my tense posture. Offering his hand he attempted a smile, which in reality, passed more as a grimace.

"Words cannot express how grateful I am! I am indebted to you. My life is yours, you need only ask."

I clasped onto his hand and tried not to look as uncomfortable as I felt with his gratitude. A lighter hand on my arm, quelled the squirming within my gut.

"I could not have made it back if not for Erik."

I looked at her and saw the tears still within her eyes. My breath caught at the sight, wanting with all my heart to wipe them away and tell her that I would always watch over her.

Her gaze was torn from my as Yuri's arms wrapped around Alya, swinging her around to face him before pressing her body against the length of his in a passionate embrace. He leaned in and whispered something into her ear. Her melodious laughter reached my ears and I felt a stab of jealousy. I kept the rage in check with the reminder that she truly did care for me.

As he allowed her feet to touch the ground again his lips descended to take hers in a kiss. I blinked, hoping it had been a figment of my imagination. It felt as if a double-edged blade was sawing into my heart without mercy. I stared as the seconds passed like years with Alya in Yuri's arms.

Instead of white-hot anger coursing through me like I would have expected, I felt a much more devastating all-consuming emptiness. It was as if a large black hole had opened up to swallow everything in me that was human. I turned on my heel and strode into the woods, not caring what a scene I made, only wanting to put as much distance between that bewitching woman and myself as possible.

"Erik? What's wrong," her voice followed, footsteps rushing to catch up.

"Leave me alone!"

"Erya?"

"Are you daft or dumb, woman? Leave!"

"Please Erik! What is going on?" She stepped in front of me and placed a hand against my chest.

"Nothing other than the fact that you are a traitorous wench!"

Her eyes blazed back at me. "You bastard! How dare you?"

"How dare I? How dare you?"

"Me? What did I do? I didn't ask for that kiss! I did not want it," she yelled at my back.

I turned on her. "Was it fun, Mademoiselle? Did you and your little group get a good laugh out of seeing how long it would take to make the hideous man believe he belonged with you?"

"You really are a madman!"

"I must be for believing all the lies you were telling!"

"What did I ever lie about to you?"

"You thought I didn't see through them but I did! Every time you told me I was a normal man or that my face didn't bother you, I knew! I was so naïve, wanting to believe you that I didn't see the obvious!"

"Which was?"

I stopped, struggling to find the words. I shook my head, finally realizing the dangerous path my accusations were taking

"No, tell me, Erik! What was it that was so obvious? That I get pleasure out of seeing you suffer? Or that I am secretly terrified of your horribly monstrous face? The same one that I have dreamed of caressing?"

I stilled, uncomprehending of what she had just admitted. She didn't notice.

"Certainly, I couldn't possibly hide my true nature from a genius like you! Devious, shameful, malicious. Hell, why don't you end this argument in the typical way? Seduce me and then you can add whore to my list of faults!"

"Ha! Seduce you? I was never the one doing the seducing!"

"Really? So our first kiss in the woods…that was my doing?"  
"I never said-"

"No, you only accused me of selfishly using you while feeding you lies!"

"What do you expect me to think, when I see you fawning over your good friend Yuri?"

"I expect you to have more faith in me, in us, than that Erik!"

"Us? There is no us!"

"There was! Now, thanks to you, there isn't! Go on then Erik! If I am all that you think I am than leave before I find another way to manipulate you!"

"There was never an us," I reiterated, suddenly afraid that I was making a terrible mistake.

"How can you say that?" Her voice softened. "Did you not feel what I felt? When you kissed me, I…" She stopped, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the memory. "It doesn't matter. Clearly I was wrong in thinking you felt it too." She stepped closer, her blazing eyes level with my own. "But you know what? I'm not sorry! To have felt one honest moment of passion after being cold as ice for years was worth it! I will NOT let you take that away from me!"

"Passion? You think **you** felt passion? Imagine living isolated from people, where a simple conversation is foreign to the ears! For years, decades, I existed like that in my dungeon, cold and alone where I could only fantasize about the feel of a woman's skin! Then that night in the cart…and the next day in the woods…"

Without realizing it, both of us were breathing harder.

"Erik."

"No, Alya. Let's just quit fooling each other and ourselves. We're doing no good. I'm leaving! I've returned you and now will be on my way."

Waltzing over the stallion, I readjusted his reigns before swinging my leg up and over his back.

"Erik! Don't you dare leave!"

Fury bubbled up within me. I glared down at her. "Why on Earth do you think you can command me? You have fooled me, Mademoiselle! But I will not play the fool any longer!"

"Erya. I'm not fooling anyone. The only one who's been lied to here was you…and you were lying to yourself."

"I have no time for this…"

"I love you. I have for quite some time now."

I stopped, staring at her in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, I thought you said-"

"I did. I love you, Erya."


	25. An Increase in Intensity

"No. Don't say that!" His voice suddenly sounded strained, leaving no trace of its natural musical quality.

"I meant what I said, I do love you but that doesn't mean I will let you command me _fransuz_!" I snarled, annoyed at his response to my confession.

Looking up from where his eyes were fixed to the ground I caught sight of something I had never seen in him before. Blatant terror; blood chilling, panic educing fear.

"Erik…" I breathed, suddenly feeling like a monster for my anger.

"Alya, you cannot love me. I have simply bewitched you! It's a mind-game, I am good at those…"

"Erik, stop! You tricked me into nothing…"

An odd sense of madness came over him. His yellow eyes darted around, as if looking for an escape but unable to see any of the dozens set before him. "No, you do not understand…No one could love poor Erik…no one…"

_What a pair we make, _I scoffed to myself. Grabbing his face between both my hands. "Stop this nonsense!"

His mind seemed to snap back to the present. "But you don't know about my past…who I am and where I came from. Once you do, you will certainly abandon poor Erik!"

"Enough! Are you not the man I have spent the last few months with? The one who has pushed me to the brink of my control, only to pull me back again?"

He tried to take a step back but I followed, not allowing his face to escape my grasp. I didn't wait for his permission. Using my fingertips, I lightly traced the dips and valleys of his disfigurement, committing its feel to memory. A deep breath whooshed out of my body. _He finally knows I love him. Come what may, he knows. I am no longer a coward!_

"I don't know who you think I am…I don't know how to be that man," he admitted softly.

"I am in love with the man you are, not the one you ought to be."

Erik's breath was ragged, sawing in and out of his lungs as he stared at me, an odd looks of disbelief making the two halves of his face contrast drastically. His strong fingers wrapped securely around the wrist of my right hand, stilling my movements with ease.

"What? Did I-" I started, nervous I had upset him.

"Shhhh, he interrupted, "Nothing is wrong. I just want to remember this moment."

Leading my hand behind his head, he placed my palm against the soft flesh of his neck. His hands shook slightly, the only hint of hesitation.

I nodded, anxious now that he was calm and collected again. Holding my face gently in his palm, his eyes darkened as they darted to my lips. My stomach flipped as I tried to calm my fluttering heart. Slowly, his mouth descended upon mine.

Erik's kiss was much like him; a fearsome power teetering on the brink of control, but yet an infinite tenderness and passion that you cannot help but comply to. In that moment, I could feel what he felt for me. Hearing those words had washed away his inhibitions and he truly could open his heart to me, even if he was still too frightened to say the words. I knew as he wrapped his arms around me with a carefully leashed strength that he felt it too.

Just as quickly, the calm dissipated. "I suppose…I should…tell you…" he struggled to say the phrase. His throat seeming to constrict over the words he feared to say above all others.

"No, Erik. Do not say it. You don't have to. Save those words for when you are ready."

He pulled me to him, leaning his head against mine, cheek by cheek. "I promise to do my best to be the man you deserve. This will not be easy…"

"I know," I pulled back to kiss his cheek. He closed his eyes and released me when I stepped away. "You can be such a stubborn brat!"

His eyes shot open and locked onto me, a hunter sighting its prey. I grinned, easing backwards at the look in his eyes.

"Why you little imp!" He chuckled, reaching out to grab me. I evaded his grasp, pleased at my own stealth. "Is that any way to talk to your beloved?"

"If he deserves it! What do you propose to do about it?"

He snarled, making another lunge at me, this time a better calculated one. Dodging him with a bit more difficulty, I took off into the woods, feeling exhilarated in more ways than one.

Hours later saw us back on the road again, leaving the edge of the city and heading deeper into the countryside. I soon felt back in my element. The power of the animal beneath me, mixed with the liberation of the country breeze on my face quieted my mind. It seemed like all the trials and tribulations of the past had, for once blissful moment, stopped nipping at my heels like a pack of ravenous wolves.

My father had finally stopped staring at me, at last used to the idea that I wasn't about to vanish into mist and stream away. Erik now had the pleasure of occupying the man. After our return, my father had spent a great deal more time talking to Erik and including him in the planning and running of our group. I had to admit I was pleased. Everyone else had also picked up on the subtle change of Erik's social standing. People who had never taken the time to notice him before, now greeted him freely or offered him help. He seemed out of sorts with the amount of attention.

"What are you thinking of?" His low masculine voice cut into my thoughts as his horse trotted to catch up to mine.

"Just how nice it is to have you truly be part of our group."

He didn't say anything, looking out ahead of us with a distant look in his eyes. "I never thought I would have a life with people again," he murmured.

"There are thousands of people out there that are far worse than you could ever be."

"You do not know-"

"I couldn't be more certain and I will hear no more on the matter," I stated firmly. I was feeling quite content with everything and wasn't willing to let Erik darken it with one of his moods.

We continued on for a while after that in silence. At first I was pleased when Erik didn't take up the conversation again but after an uncomfortably long silence, I wondered if he had begun to brood anyway. I sighed, feeling as if the sky had turned a shade darker.

When we made camp, Erik made himself scarce, picking up chores in what could only be an attempt to stay busy and not have to talk to me. It saddened me that his past continued to haunt him even after I admitted my love for him. I had hoped the chance at a future would have helped heal him.

Feeling like I needed some time to myself as well, I took a blanket and made my own spot just beyond the camp's line of sight. Taking a book with me, I found a quiet spot, started a fire and opened the cover. Fingering through the worn pages, I felt as if I had returned to an old friend for advice and solace. I smiled and started in.

It had begun to grow dark when I finally heard a set of familiar boots on the hard earth.

"Why are you alone?"

"Just wanted a moment to myself."

"Is everything alright?"

"You tell me."

Without looking up, I could sense the change that came over him. He was tense and on edge, prepared to play the defensive.

"You are not as hard to read as you think you are" I stated before he overreacted.

"I did not try to hide anything from you."

I looked up at him, wishing he would understand what it was I wanted. "But you didn't share either. I want to help you. Don't shut me out!"

"No one can help me. I cannot change. Fate saw to that."

"You wear a mask of indifference to protect yourself. I don't want you to hide those emotions away. Talk to me, allow me to understand what lies behind that mask!"

He touched the deformed half of his face, his brow wrinkled with uncertainty. "That is one I cannot remove…"

"Cannot or will not?" I asked.

Before I could say anything more, he rushed away. The pit in my stomach opened deeper. I willed myself not to cry for his broken soul.

* * *

I left her bewildering presence and headed for the camp, not sparing a glance back in her direction. The confusion on her beautiful face would only weaken my resolve. My knuckles were clenched to keep my emotions in check, willing myself not to run. Running would make it harder to explain to Alya later.

I leapt into the cart and nearly pulled down the curtain concealing the inside from view. Among the items inside, sat a mirror Alya kept amongst her things. I picked it up and fingered it carefully, thinking of all the times her beautiful face had looked back at her from its glass. My breathing came in ragged pants, as I saw my reflection in its ice-like surface. I stared at myself for a moment, taking in the normal half of my face, its masculine angles, golden eyes and the lock of dark chocolate brown hair that fell across my smooth forehead. My emotions still in turmoil, I reached up and touched the other, sickening side. My deformity stared back at me, as cold and heartless as ever. She wanted to know about my feelings and opinions…to understand me. No masks. The world had always demand that I wear a mask to protect them from seeing what I truly was. Why did this woman of all people demand I show the one thing I had chosen to hide. The Phantom wanted to rage at anyone and everything, just to get a little revenge for having been given such a monstrosity. Instead of allowing him full reign, I forced myself to look at its shriveled yellowed skin and empty crevices. The harsh reality of my face was like a bucket of ice water to the embers of love and desire that Alya had stoked to life my soul. In that instant, my mind was settled. I would see her settled at home and then be on my way. A lump formed in my throat and I swallowed hard. I only hoped she cooperated.

* * *

Erik left in such a rush that I barely had time to register that he was upset before he was gone. Not knowing what went wrong, I couldn't offer any words to help and so I was forced simply allowed him his moment. He'd come back. Whatever demons he was running from hadn't caught up to him yet and he seemed to care more me than about staying one step ahead of them. I was grateful that he made a habit of returning to me.

I had to admit, regardless of his oddities, the love I felt for him was growing on me. Mind you, I wasn't terribly fond of the rampant waves of emotion that seemed to accompany my time with him but he was still charming in an eccentric kind of way. I only wished he would give me a little more of himself. I wanted not only to love him, but to befriend him, show him some of the support he provided for me. For a few moments, I contemplated following him, but the combined warmth from the fire and the blanket covering me was far too tempting. I curled up underneath it and stared into the dancing flames, watching the orange and white sparks dance wildly around one another.

"Alya?" I jumped up at the sound of my name and the pressure of his hand on my shoulder. I rubbed at my eyes, trying to remember what had been happening. When nothing supplied itself, I quickly tried to clear the fog from my brain.

"Erik? What's wrong?"

"I wanted to apologize…for running out on you…" His voice was strained and I thought I heard some brusqueness as well.

"But you came back. That's all that matters to me…now go to sleep. It must be late!"

He said nothing for the longest time, his face cast in shadow from the flickering coals of the fire. The silence lasted so long, I wondered through the haze of sleep if he had gone. Finally his soft whisper reached my ears. "I would rather be close to you tonight. I did sleep, but I dreamt you left me."

"Erik," I half admonished, covering a yawn with my hand, "You know you can not get rid of me that easily." He nodded solemnly. I sighed in exasperation. "I'm fine. Go now, you deserve rest. You've been very busy with this last leg of the trip."

"I'd sleep better if you were close by."

"You're impossible," I mumbled, feeling the fog of sleep lift. I pulled back the covers and nodded my head to the side. When nothing happened, I peeked one eye open. Erik was staring at me in near panic. "What's the problem now, Erik?" I was about at my wit's end with this man!

"That is not what I meant! What you're suggesting...you cannot intend-"

"That is precisely what I intend, Erik! For goodness sake! You wanted to be close! It's not like we haven't slept this close before…"

"But everything is different now," he declared softly.

I closed my eyes, gathering my patience. "There's plenty of room and I'm just too tired to play this game with you!"

"What do you mean game?"

"You act as if you've never been around a woman before…Really Erik! Now come on! Get in!"  
Finally, Erik removed his boots and jacket before settling tentatively down onto the blanket in front of me. It was a close fit, but not uncomfortable. I wrapped my body around his back, resting my cheek between his shoulder blades. I could feel his pulse thundering under my head.

"For goodness sake, calm down and go to sleep, Erik!"

"Alya...I don't think this is a good idea." As I began to fully wake, the fear in his voice became impossible to miss.

"Erik? What's really wrong?"

"If you knew who and what I am, you would realize what a bad idea this is."

_Not this again! _Frustrated, I grabbed his shoulder and forced him onto his back so I could look him in the face. The look of surprise on his face would have been priceless had he not truly been troubled. I propped myself up on one elbow and studied his shaking form beneath me. He let out a ragged breath I caught a dangerous look in his darkened eyes. My skin sizzled where our flesh touched and his eyes darted to mine, having felt a similar reaction. My mouth went dry and now when I most needed to say something, I was physically incapable. I watched his mouth as he let out a deep sigh.

"I need you to listen to me for once!" I dragged my eyes away from his mouth only to find him watching me closely. My cheeks burned red but I held his gaze.

"This is difficult for me and after I have finished you'll have a choice to make."

"Stop. You don't have to do this."

His eyebrow pulled down in a half frown, the other half too mangled to express the sentiment. "Do what?"

"Tell me anything. I am not asking anything of you and I am not upset that you're nervous about being so close to me. I didn't realize what an imp I was being!"

"Alya, you weren't - "

I raised my hand and he stopped talking. "I didn't mean to misjudge where we were in our relationship…I apologize," I mumbled, feeling stupid for having let my own desires get the better of me. I had pushed him too far and now I could only hope I hadn't scared him off.

His hand reached out to take my cheek. His golden eyes searched mine intently. "You did not misjudge what I feel for you. This," he grazed my arm with his fingertips, "and this." His hand took mine and placed it over his thudding heart. It was only then I felt how much his hand quivered. "are real. Before this morning, I desired you, certainly…but since your astounding confession…" He seemed to struggle with the words. "what I felt has changed…intensified…I must be cautious around you for I do not trust my own control."

I stared back at him trying to take in what he admitted. Low in my belly, I felt the pull of his touch like a moth to a flame. I longed to caress him, to test that control he worried about.

Erik lying on his back took up the majority of the blanket and ignoring my own hunger for his touch, I rearranged myself so that I fit in the crook of his arm, my head against his shoulder.

After a long moment, his soft melodic voice reached my ears. "I have never shared a moment like this with another human before in my life."  
"I will see to it that we share many more…I love you."

"Please. Say it again…use my name."

"I love you Erik," I repeated, wondering how long it would take for him to get used to the words. I would repeat them as often as he needed to hear it if it helped keep him close like this.


End file.
